


Resaturate

by sorion



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorion/pseuds/sorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are not meant to live their lives in dull grey. And sometimes, they need a little help to resaturate.</p><p>COMPLETED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ashes to Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I... slipped and fell on my keyboard XD I'd say that I keep coming back to my guilty pleasure (get it? get it?), but I don't feel guilty for my pleasures :P  
> Yes, the title is an inside joke. As is the location. I seem to be a bit prone to nostalgia, these days… ;) (No worries, you don’t need to get it.)
> 
>  **Notes:** no Side B, no Glühen  
>  **Warnings:** discussion of mental health issues (more than I thought there would be, including potentially inadvisable therapy methods :X but then, normal people don't have a telepath at hand)

Tsukiyono Omi stepped out of the plane and should rightfully have felt as if he had entered a different world. Not that airports are particularly alluring in any corner of the planet, but he was so very obviously so very far from his everyday life that, really, the tight string around his heart should have just snapped and let him breathe more easily. That was how things worked, wasn't it?

He grabbed his luggage firmly and headed towards the taxi service that he had been assured would be waiting for him and breathed in deeply. Relaxation would come in time, he assured himself silently and smiled at the driver who held up a board with his name on it.

"Welcome to paradise!" the man greeted him and helped him with his luggage.

Thankfully, the driver seemed to accept Omi's explanation that he was very tired from the trip and let his young passenger simply gaze out the passenger window of the car and at the picturesque landscape in silence. Not without telling him that he was about to spend the time of his life on this island and in a villa beyond compare, to boot.

As Omi was listlessly watching the lush flora pass by them, he slowly had to concede that perhaps this really _was_ necessary. At first, when Manx had approached and told him that he was on mandatory leave for a month, two if he needed it, Omi had hit the roof. After all, she couldn't do that, and the team needed him, and anyway he was fine, and he couldn't just up and leave, and he would take things more slowly all on his own… All perfectly sound reasons in his mind.

 _"You are about to burst at the seams, and I won't let you destroy yourself!"_ had been the answer, and Manx hadn't budged an inch.

Things had been getting a bit… rough, admittedly. But _rough_ wasn't something Omi couldn't deal with. _Rough_ he had handled since he was too young to remember. And he'd killed people for a living since he was (only barely) old enough to remember. So, really, Schwarz being taken under contract by Kritiker didn't even come close to the top ten of Omi's roughest moments, so he didn't understand why this appeared to have been the turning point that had made Manx take action and ensure that Omi get away from everything for a while and into therapy. Well, vacation-slash-therapy or whatever.

Omi had dealt with learning about his family without ending up in a padded cell, so working with murdering psychics shouldn't have been that much of a stretch.

Though, truth to be told, Omi didn't mind so much that he wasn't in Tokyo during what Kritiker lovingly called the _'transition period'_ of both teams probably going for each other's throats until the work would have them settle in the new situation and apply the murderous rage elsewhere.  
No, Omi didn't have to be around for that…

And, yes, the fact that he was on this beautiful island where he should have blossomed like the flowers around them and he just… couldn't… was a sign that it was probably a good idea to do something about his mental state. Not that he would have so much as allowed the mere thought in Japan, but since he was here, now, he might as well.

_'Face it, Tsukiyono. You're fucked in the head, and you need help.'_

He wasn't sure how long the drive to the house (villa, as he'd been told) took, but when the car closed in on it, even Omi's jaded eyes widened at the sight.  
"Wow."

His driver laughed. "That chases away the jetlag, eh?"

That spelled a smile on Omi's face that almost reached his eyes. "That it does." Not that the jetlag was the problem.

Omi got out of the car, accepted his luggage from the driver along with some well-meant leaflets for excursions on the island, and paid the enthusiastic man.

He waited for the car to drive away and hesitantly stared at the front door and the key in his hand. Then he sighed. Time to face the music and whichever Kritiker agent had been assigned to take care of his (fraying) mental health. 

He opened the door and stepped inside, looking around. He didn't like unknown locations. He was too professional to not instinctively case the building. His fingers were itching for a weapon he didn't have, and he forced himself to take another deep breath. This was ridiculous.

He pulled his suitcase behind him and briefly looked down when it bumped over a small threshold, and when he looked up again, he first saw bare feet, cut-off jeans, and a very colourful button-down shirt hanging open, and… No.

"Hello, Bombay."

Omi could try pulling the emergency brake on his thoughts all he liked, he already heard his mental train derail and fall down a very deep abyss with a deafening roar that was drowning out everything but his own heartbeat.

"No," was all he could manage, numbly shaking his head, but never taking his unbelieving eyes off the man in front of him.

Schuldig didn't look particularly surprised but frowned a bit. "She didn't tell you," he noted, frankly.

"What?"

Schuldig's eyes narrowed and he stalked off. "She didn't fucking tell you, and I'm going to fucking kill her!"

That last bit startled Omi into action. He dropped the handle of his suitcase and rushed after the other assassin. Kill? Who? What was even… What was happening?

Schuldig looked back over his shoulder with a sarcastic tilt to his lips. "Well, not actually _kill_ her, obviously." He turned fully and bowed with a flourish, "Because we're the _good guys_ , now," before spinning forward again and walking into what was probably the living room. His tone of voice didn't sound like he was all that _good_ , at all, and it made Omi wonder (not for the first time) what the hell Kritiker had been thinking.

Omi followed him, not knowing why or what else he was supposed to do and found him standing next to the sofa in an open living room with its front wall completely folded away, allowing for a stunning view, but all Omi could see was the escape route. Schuldig was turning on a large television and some gear on the coffee table.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," the German muttered, and the moment the face of someone appeared on the screen, he yelled, "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Omi hurried around the corner to see whom the man was so mad at and… froze for a second time. His lips only formed the word silently, _'Manx'_.

Manx sat calmly behind her desk and looked like she had been waiting for this call. "Schuldig. Omi. What seems to be the problem?"

"You didn't tell him!" Schuldig accused her. "You put him on that plane, not telling him I'd be here." His eyes narrowed. "I knew you were a bunch of amateurs, but this takes the fucking cake!"

Manx didn't seem fazed. "He would have refused to go."

Schuldig rolled his eyes. "You sent me an assassin who was unstable enough to require my tender care and thought it would be a good idea to not warn him about it. You can't put someone through therapy who doesn't want it!"

Manx hesitated and then squared her shoulders, looking straight at Schuldig. "You could."

Omi, who had so far only listened in silent stupor, felt as if he had been doused in ice water at those words. He stumbled towards the couch – even if that brought him closer to Schuldig – and fell onto the cushions before his vision could turn completely black.

Schuldig squinted at Omi, clearly reading his distress like the pages in a book, before sending Manx a deadly sweet smile. "Which one of us is supposed to be the baddie, again?"

Manx remained calm. "You don't have free reign, and Omi has to agree, obviously. But you know damn well that he is beyond regular therapy."

"I don't need help," Omi croaked and finally managed to look up. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't need _his_ help," he said, much more firmly and with a thunderous look directed at Schuldig.

Schuldig just smirked at him. "Ah. There you are."

Omi blinked and turned his plea at Manx. "Manx, please. I could just… stay here on my own and relax?"

"I'm sorry, but that is out of the question, Omi. You are to stay there with him, and he is to… behave professionally."

Schuldig snorted, and Omi felt the world swallow him.

"Does Crawford know about your lack of communication?" Schuldig demanded to know.

Manx hesitated, again. "He… implied that the consequences of such a decision would be on my head."

"Which in Brad-speak means that he hasn't seen any insurmountable obstacles that he'd have to get off his ass to help you with," Schuldig translated sarcastically.

Omi didn't care anymore. He would have to stay here with someone who… had done to him what Schuldig had done to him, and… He just wanted to stop listening to Manx explaining why this was the only feasible course of action, and why he had to stay, and why he couldn't just go home, and turn it off, turn it off, turn it off, _turnitoff_ …

"We're done here," Omi suddenly heard Schuldig state through the fog in his head that had started burning his eyes.

"Schuldig…" Manx protested.

"We're _done_ ," Schuldig repeated and the line went dead. "It's off," he said quietly.

The burning in Omi's eyes made them water and spill, before it crawled down his throat and tried to shred his heart. He couldn't have stopped the sob that broke free for a second longer. Neither could he have stopped the one that followed, and the one that followed. One sob right after the other refused to be contained anymore, and he just rolled into a ball on the couch, lying on his side and clutching his knees.

The pain flowed and spilled, drawing him under until the darkness finally and mercifully took him.

*  
Schuldig watched the young man for a long moment, guiding his exhausted mind deeper into sleep. He squinted as he focused on a particularly tenacious loop of thoughts that followed Omi even into his dreams and with practised ease untied them from Omi's current emotional state, ensuring that those, at least, wouldn't be triggered every time Omi felt depressed. He knew well enough that there would be more loops and triggers and traps hidden away under that mop of blond hair.

Once he was sure that Omi rested peacefully, he let go of his hold.

Well. Schuldig had only himself to thank for being in this situation, didn't he, so he shouldn't complain.

"That went well," he muttered, his sarcasm intact even when talking to himself, and let Omi sleep off the worst of his exhaustion.

"Fucking idiot," he grunted as he left, not entirely sure if he meant himself or the kitten.

Unwilling to let anything ruin his vacation, he only kept a weak connection open between his and Omi's minds so he would be able to stop a nightmare. Other than that, he decided to ignore any duties for the time being and make use of their beautiful pool.

Okay, fine, so it wasn't really a vacation, and he was under orders to get Omi back into working shape, but he was in the fucking Caribbean, and he was damn well going to enjoy himself! And once he was through with his patient, _Omi_ was going to enjoy himself as well, if it killed him.

Schuldig harrumphed as he floated in the water. Knowing the guilt trips that all four Weiß boys were prone to, they probably all thought that enjoying themselves _would_ kill them. Morons. Enjoying life wouldn't make their targets any less dead, so Schuldig didn't really see the point.

Either you kill, or you damn well don't. He, himself, damn well did.

He was lazing about for maybe two hours, both in the water and on a deck chair, before he noticed Omi's thought patterns feeling a bit less like sleep and a bit more like he might wake soon. Also, even bad guys had to eat, so he thought he might get some dinner ready. Omi would probably still be too shocked to be of much use to either of them.

Domestication. What a terrible notion. But since this was the only way to get his slave driver of a boss to let him go on a vacation that he had deserved a dozen times over, he elected not to dwell on that. (At least he cooked in his swimming shorts.) Not that he was much of a cook, but even he could throw together some stew.

Besides, Omi was interesting. His mind was (and had always been) fascinating to him. Unfortunately, Omi had also come to feel Schuldig's _'interest'_ , first hand, and whenever Schuldig had been interested in someone – especially an enemy – it wasn't pretty.

Truth to be told, Schuldig had been stunned when he'd been told that the little Bombay was on his way. He had been certain that Omi would flat-out refuse to come anywhere near him, tropical island or not. Oh, he knew that Omi would work with him on a job if he was ordered to do so (he'd always been sickeningly obedient), but the situation they found themselves in, now, was a tad different.

He knew the moment Omi was awake, and he counted three minutes before Omi realised where he was and what had happened.

Schuldig didn't really do _'disarming'_ very well; his efforts were particularly fruitless when he'd tried to kill and torture the person he wanted to disarm at some point... Wanting to cut Omi some slack, and doing his best to _somehow_ have a relaxing vacation, god-fucking-dammit, he clanked with the pot he was working with and made general cooking noises.  
People who cooked weren't threatening, right?

Well, Omi's thoughts were suspicious – _very_ suspicious – but no longer panicky. Gotta start somewhere.

Schuldig felt him come closer, following the sounds from the kitchen. He sensed him standing in the doorway but didn't turn to look at him. Allowing Omi to assess the situation without being watched or acknowledged would surely put him more at ease.

"What are you doing?" Omi finally asked.

Schuldig smirked a bit. That wasn't the first thought that had crossed Omi's mind, not even close, but he found it interesting that Omi would go for the least threatening or challenging option.  
"A villa like this one usually comes with a cook. But our bosses thought – what with the things we'll undoubtedly talk about... eventually – it would be better if there wasn't anyone else around all the time. At least we'll get a cleaner twice a week."

Omi's jaw set as he visibly braced himself.  
"So, what, are you supposed to be my nursemaid, now?"

Schuldig annoyingly refused being annoyed by that. "If you think bitching at me is going to make me give up my vacation, you have another thing coming, sweetheart." He pointed at Omi with his ladle. "I'm going to therapise you within an inch or your life, and there's nothing you can do about it."

That made Omi let his guard down for long enough to snort. "Is therapise even a word?"

Schuldig now pointed the ladle at himself. "Behold the fucks I won't give – definitely not to you, you little shit. I'm the only one who can do this, so I'll call it whatever the fuck I want."

Omi's eyes narrowed. "I don't need it, whatever you want to call it," he declared, and Schuldig huffed.

"I could be generous and ignore your breakdown earlier..." he said and didn't even try to not sound daunting, making Omi's eyes glitter dangerously, "... and I could instead quote back at you what you were thinking on your ride here from the airport."

Omi froze.

"Oh, we're all fucked in the head," Schuldig said, sardonically. "But you were about to crack."

Omi had the self-awareness to not protest further. "What happened to the fucks you don't give?"

Schuldig watched Omi deflate and look at the floor.  
"Brad got us under contract with Kritiker, and whatever else you might think of me, you know I'm good at my job."  
That got him another angry look. Good. Anger, he could work with. It was much better than resignation.

"You really enjoy riling me up, don't you."

Schuldig laughed. "Well, yes," he admitted shamelessly. "And you in a fighting mood makes my job easier. I can work my magic on your issues, but unless you want me to just rummage around in your head and rearrange everything, you're going to have to work with me."

Omi shivered. "Manx said you won't do anything without my permission."

Schuldig smiled a slow, dangerous smile. "Hm," he hummed, noncommittally. "And I won't, not really, unless I have to."

Omi very clearly thought that he'd rather be insane or dead than at Schuldig's mercy. He didn't actively try to project that thought, but, of course, Schuldig heard it regardless.

"Oh, fuck you!" was Schuldig's comment on that thought.

The outburst startled Omi out of his morose musings and returned his attention to Schuldig where the telepath wanted to have it.

"Do you think you're the only person on the planet with a depression?" he demanded to know, angrily. "Even though, in your case, there is by now probably some budding split personality disorder in there that nobody but me noticed!"  
Okay, so he may have forgotten for a moment that the anger was useful for _Omi_ but a bit less conductive to a constructive environment when it came from him... but he'd just about had enough of _Weiß_ for a day.

Omi stared at him and shook his head.

Schuldig just steamrolled right over what Omi was trying to reply. "You have _no idea_ just how good you have it with a telepath at your beck and call to fix it! Every other depressed person would give a fucking limb to have me make it go away. So you're all hurt that I had you kidnapped and your sister died? Cry me a river, why don't you! You've killed a number of sisters in your time, and you have no room to talk, _Bombay_!"

Omi's thoughts went through all the reasons they should both hate each other and slowly spiralled in on the _real_ question he wanted an answer to, but Schuldig wasn't going to help him with that. If the squirt couldn't say it out loud, he wouldn't answer.  
"Why are you even doing this?" Omi asked, finally, after a long, tense moment.

"Because, like it or not, you're on my team now, and this is part of my job."

"You don't want to help me. You don't want to be here," Omi stated. "They could have told you to lock me in a room in Tokyo and _'rearrange everything'_. There was no need to come here."

Schuldig stared at Omi as if he'd grown another head.  
"Okay, that's it," he muttered, approached Omi in four long strides (ignoring the young man's flinch), grabbed his arm, and dragged him outside. He made him stand on the edge of their wide terrace and look outwards.  
"I know you're as numb as a brick wall, right now, but even you should understand why I'd want to come here."

Omi's throat tightened as he looked at the ocean, mountains, and flora. 

"Anyone still living in there?" Schuldig asked, taunting him. He knew Omi was still in that near-empty shell standing next to him. He could hear him cry out in desperation from behind the deadening fog of his depression.

Omi visibly struggled. "I know I should..." he forced out, gesticulating at the scenery helplessly, "... but it doesn't." He didn't cry, but his eyes shimmered treacherously.

"You know you should feel something," Schuldig translated, making Omi release a shuddering breath when he heard the jumbled thoughts in his head put together in a coherent sentence.  
"You know how happy people are who come to a place like this to get away and forget their meaningless little lives for a while, and all you can taste is grey ashes. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm here."

Omi thought that the jarring memory of Schuldig on the other side of their battlefield was the only thing still making him feel _something_. It was burning like the German's copper hair, but it was something.  
But he wanted other things, didn't he? He wanted to taste more than fire and ashes... even if he didn't remember what that was like.

"Good," Schuldig interrupted Omi's self-reflection and nodded, once. "And I'll fix that. But first things first," he added and clapped Omi on the shoulder as he turned to walk back inside. "Dinner now, soul-searching later."

He made Omi sit at a table in their very own gazebo, reading his thoughts as little as possible. Omi's mind felt like it was filled with sticky spider's webs in dark corners, and now that Omi was slowly acknowledging it, it didn't exactly get better... On the contrary, the realisation was overwhelming and daunting.  
But Schuldig also knew that this had probably been the very last possible point in time to turn Omi's fate around. It wasn't that Omi's mental state was that much worse than other people's, surprisingly, but he was rapidly moving towards a tipping point that _'other people'_ didn't have.  
Left to its own devices, Omi's sanity would have very soon deteriorated from bad to unmanageable, and Schuldig could only do so much. Someone like Farfarello was beyond _fixing_. He could technically be reprogrammed, but there was nothing left to fix. And Brad had rammed the message home that they needed Weiß as they were. Alive and intact.

So no reprogramming for Omi. That would make his work harder, but not impossible. Because he? Was just that damn good.

 

Omi still didn't react much when he had dinner placed in front of him, but he ate, though clearly without really tasting anything.

Starting on his own dinner, Schuldig was surreptitiously poking Omi's perception a bit. He knew that the young man was actually quite sensual, his body starving for affection it never got. The depression dampened it, but that didn't mean that he couldn't... tweak it. He didn't count that as _'doing something without permission'_. It was already there, after all.

As their meal progressed, Omi's dull eyes regained some awareness, and the bites stayed in his mouth for longer, allowing the flavour to spread. He breathed deeply between the bites, his shoulders relaxed marginally, and he blinked more slowly.  
"This is very good," he suddenly said, his voice clear and even.

"Thank you, kitten."

Omi swallowed another bite and the word _'ashes'_ crossed his mind, his mental processes already substantially less foggy. He blinked and licked his lips. "You did something," he said softly and perhaps a bit frightened.

"Just giving your sensory perception a bit of a boost. Your depression was messing it up, and if I'm going to cook, you'd damn well better appreciate it properly."

Confused, Omi looked at the spoon in his hand and tried another mouthful.

"And we need to root your mind in your body again, it was getting crowded in your head, and this is as good a place to start as any."

To Omi's surprise, the knowledge of what Schuldig had done didn't detract from the long-forgotten flavours on his tongue. Instead, it... cleared his head.  
"You said so before," he remembered. "About split personalities. I don't have split personalities."

"Not quite, but you're headed there. You already treat Omi and Bombay very differently, and in the past months, they stopped communicating with each other properly. Never mind that I've noticed Mamoru wanting to add his two cents."

Omi frowned. He didn't do that. Did he?

"Keep eating," Schuldig instructed. "It keeps you grounded. And, yes, you do do that. You've been thinking recently that your amnesia was getting worse. It isn't. It's just that Omi doesn't quite remember what Bombay did, and they both try to bury Mamoru who carries the brunt of the bad memories."

Omi's eyes widened. "I would have known _that_. I knew I wasn't... feeling well."

"You're depressed as fuck," Schuldig corrected. "But don't worry, uncle Schu will make it better before all three of you smash headfirst into a wall. And I said it was a _budding_ split personality disorder. Only Omi is fully formed. _Yet_." He contemplated that. "Which is probably all kinds of messed up, given that he's not even the first one."

Omi rubbed his face. "I feel like I should panic."

"You're not, and I'd stop it if you were, anyway."

Omi frowned at him.

Schuldig grinned, unrepentant and continued eating. "Just tweaks, Bombay. I'm not changing who you are and what you think."

Omi rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. His taste buds still sang, and he didn't remember when he'd last enjoyed a meal. He hadn't been... eating much, recently, period. Hadn't done much of anything.

"Eat," Schuldig said, uncharacteristically softly. "Your body actually likes you. You should live in it."

Omi ate slowly, but he ate, his eyes clearing up more the longer they sat there. Schuldig assumed that it was as much the physical senses helping him focus as it was the energy the food provided. Omi truly hadn't been taking care of himself well, these days.

The ongoing silence wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but Omi still eventually felt the need to fill it, so that he wasn't alone with his thoughts.  
"You're not wearing your bandana..." was what he chose to break the silence with.

Schuldig's lips quirked. "I'd end up with a tan line across my whole forehead."

Omi thought about how the lack of bandana and the completely different clothes made Schuldig look far removed from his usual professional persona and made him appear less dangerous. Which, Omi was of course well aware of, was a dangerous misconception.  
He also thought that, even if they were on the same side, now, it was chilling to be alone with Schuldig in a house with no one else around.

Schuldig silently wondered how the rest of Weiß dealt with the new status of their joint teams, but he supposed that they probably had it easier, since there was three of them, and they weren't on their own. Perhaps Omi had an interesting point, there.

"How come we got such a big house if it's just the two of us?" Omi asked after another while.

Schuldig leaned back in his seat with a wide grin. As far as he was concerned, he deserved every square metre of this villa, and then some. He'd been thinking about rotating bedrooms for the hell of it.  
"It was a bit of a last minute thing, so we had to take what was available." He smirked. "If you'd prefer closer quarters, we could always share a bed..." He just couldn't help it. Even this far from his usual self, Omi was irresistible to tease.

Omi scowled at him. "The food's not _that_ good."

Schuldig laughed out loud. Oh, this little kitty cat was going to be a lot of fun once he was better...  
"Kid, we're gonna get along surprisingly well," he said, still smirking.

Both Omi's scowl and the hint of playfulness were dampened by that remark, and Schuldig briefly wondered what he'd missed, but Omi didn't stay quiet for long.  
"Don't call me a kid. I'm not a kid." He stared morosely into his dinner bowl. "I'm twenty years old, for fuck's sake." With that, he shovelled another spoonful of food into his mouth.

"You're shitting me!" Schuldig did some mental calculations and had to realise... that they'd known each other for a lot longer than he'd been aware of. Jesus... Had he really got so used to Weiß that he couldn't even remember how long they'd tried to kill each other?  
"Huh. When did _that_ happen?" he mused. He meant time passing in general with that remark, but Omi answered the question in connection to his age.

"Month ago..."

Well. That explained a lot, or at least some of it.  
So, Omi had turned twenty a month ago. Schuldig knew from experience that birthdays weren't usually something to celebrate for people with a... _past_. People like Omi and, alright, Schuldig himself. Thankfully, Schuldig didn't know his own birthday date.

"Congratulations," Schuldig said, dryly.

Omi put his spoon back in the bowl and huffed. "For surviving long enough to go killing some more?"

Schuldig hummed in contemplation. Omi's mind was just full of surprises today, and it wasn't easy to surprise a telepath of his calibre, after all. How interesting.  
"You think it's the killing that made you lose it?"

"What else is it supposed to be?" Omi didn't look up. He kept his eyes on the table.

An incredulous giggle escaped Schuldig. "You've been a killer since you were twelve, and you think turning the big Two-Oh would make you cross an invisible line of morality?"

That made Omi look up. Schuldig's words resonated in his mind, so it seemed like he'd known on some level that the killing wasn't the issue. The rest was fear and confusion under a dull blanket that struggled to care at all.

"Ordinary people would be driven to madness by killing, that is true. You and I and people like us... we're not ordinary. And the fact that somewhere deep down you know that you don't mind killing so much, that fact scares you. It scares you, but it doesn't make you crazy."

Omi's voice was hoarse when could make himself speak again. "Then what is it?"

"Not quite sure yet. I feel like it has more to do with you being afraid of who you are than what you do."

"And who am I?"

Schuldig smirked at him. "You're Omi," he said with a teasing undertone to the first name. "Omi who has a night job and a past. The rest is up to you. I'm just here to annoy the hell out of you until you figure it out."

*

Omi woke up the next morning, a light breeze playing with the curtains and over his sleep-warm skin. This time, he remembered immediately where he was and whom he would be spending his time with.

He still felt apprehensive, but at least he was well rested. Schuldig's doing, he knew. The telepath had offered to ensure that Omi would get a full night's sleep, despite his mental state, the jetlag, and the nap he'd had in the late afternoon the day before. And despite his reservations, Omi couldn't make himself refuse the offer. It hardly mattered, anymore, at this point.

 _"A month's worth of exhaustion doesn't go away with a cat-nap, kitty cat,"_ Schuldig had informed him in that infuriating fake solemn tone of his.

Omi turned to his side, feeling the soft fabric of the bedsheets against his skin and the cool air now caressing his back. Outside, he could hear the tree frogs, see the green of trees through the window, and he knew that if he were to look out his balcony door, he'd see the cerulean of the ocean. It was beautiful.

 

After a while, he sighed deeply and got up to have a shower. He just stood under the spray for long minutes, letting the water wash over him. It made him feel... refreshed. As if his skin could breathe again. More recently – and not just since his birthday – he would scrub and scrub, and still the grime would cling to his skin like a disease, wrapping around his whole being.

Confused, he padded back to his room and put on a t-shirt and shorts. It had taken less than a day, and he hardly even recognised himself, anymore. But he also knew that this wasn't because he was different, but because he'd buried a part of himself for so long that it appeared foreign, a part that now peeked through the surface. Foreign and familiar. Uncanny. _Right_.

His feet carried him into the kitchen. The house was quiet. Apparently, his erstwhile roomie wasn't up yet. Omi thought he might as well be civil and make breakfast for both of them, so he started to dice various fruits he found and put together a fruit salad. Schuldig had cooked the night before, after all.

He could... sense when he was no longer alone and wondered if this was something the German did, or if he was merely getting used to the unusual company. He could usually tell when his team mates were close by, too, only that Schuldig's presence felt like someone breathing down his neck, making his skin crawl.

"Breakfast is almost ready, Schuldig," he said without turning around, the name feeling weird passing his lips, and he realised that he hadn't said it out loud the day before. He hadn't said any of Schwarz' names after the news that they would have to work together; he'd used the code names if he couldn't avoid talking about them. Which he usually could.  
When he braced himself and looked up, Schuldig was leaning against the doorframe, clearly amused.

"Call me Schu. I don't think the full thing is meant for your Japanese tongue, kitten."

Omi was torn between feeling embarrassed that he apparently couldn't pronounce it correctly and angry that Schuldig had to point it out to embarrass him. Then he got distracted by what _'shu'_ , or, rather, _'shuiro'_ would mean in Japanese, and his eyes fell on Schuldig's hair. He squared his shoulders.  
"Well. It's almost the right shade of red... Schu."

Schuldig blinked and then laughed. "I never even thought of that," he said, holding a strand of hair between two fingers to inspect the hue. He snickered some more. "It means _'shoe'_ in German, so your association is more flattering, I suppose."

The giggle escaped Omi's throat before he could stop it, but the tingle only lasted a moment before the spell was over. The small smile remained for a bit longer.  
He picked up the two bowls he'd prepared and handed Schuldig one of them.

"Why, thank you, kitten."

Omi pulled a face. "Do you have to call me that?"

"Well, you tense up when I call you Omi. Tsukiyono puts more distance between us than I'm willing to give you. And Bombay puts too much distance between you and yourself." That last bit he added with a smirk as he sat down at the table on the terrace.

They ate in silence for a bit, and Omi marvelled at the taste again. It wasn't quite as it had been at dinner, but he did taste the different flavours and the juice and...  
"Tell me what you did to me," he said with eerie calm that surprised even himself.

Schuldig still smirked a bit, his bright eyes alight with something disquieting.  
"What do you think I would have to have done...?"

Instead of dismissing the question as Schuldig merely teasing him, he actually thought about it. After almost a minute of quiet, he said, "Not sure. But when I woke up, I could..." he didn't quite know how to put it, "... I could... _feel_ my skin. I..." His eyes lost focus and he stared through the table. This didn't make any sense.

"It makes perfect sense, actually," Schuldig interrupted his thoughts.

"Is this like... the food thing you did yesterday?"

Schuldig snorted. "I didn't do a _'food thing'_. Sensory perception. Your depression was blocking it, or at the very least distorting the signals. I poked some holes in that to see what would happen."

Omi looked down his body, almost as if he could see those holes.

"And I wasn't going to do anything your brain couldn't do on its own, anyway," he added dismissively. "Too much hassle to really mess with someone's psyche, and the results are only temporary."

Omi shivered. "What do you mean, my brain could do it on its own? Wouldn't it do that if it could?"

"You can program your brain. Do something for long enough, and you'll stick to the pattern. For obvious reasons, you wouldn't want to stick to the patterns of a depression. Without my ever so special _touch_ , you'd need meds to countermand the chemical imbalance enough to relearn healthy patterns. And since in your case the chemical imbalance was caused by your behavioural patterns and not the other way around," he held out his arms in a grand gesture, "all I had to do was give your brain a specific reminder to not ignore what your perception is telling you. Just a tiny little nudge of something you already know."

Omi stared at him with wide eyes. There was just no way it was that easy.

Schuldig's smirk widened. "It is for me." He winked. "Told you there are people who would give a limb to have me put them back together. They might even put their entirely misplaced trust in me..."

That dark smirk would have probably had a lesser man run for the hills, but Omi was beyond caring, and Schuldig had already done nasty stuff to him. Nasty stuff no longer frightened him.  
"Show me." The words were out before Omi could really think them. "Show me what you did."

Schuldig's expression turned decidedly sinister, but before Omi could change his mind, there was a nudge in his mind.  
"Feel that?"

Omi nodded, dumbfounded. This wasn't like Schuldig reading his mind or manipulating him... it was...

"I'm opening a door for you. Look."

And Omi looked, or, rather, _sensed_. He could still feel that dark and sticky fog in his mind, and Schuldig was showing him the hole he had made. Just a small hole letting in air to breathe... His mind was... fascinating.  
"This is amazing."

"Yes, I am."

That startled Omi out of his reverie, and his eyes focused on the man facing him. He couldn't help it. He had to grin a bit.  
"I can't even argue..."

Schuldig and his ego, as expected, were entirely unsurprised. "Clever kitten." Then he shrugged. "Those are just parlour tricks, really. The most important thing is something most people underestimate." He smirked at Omi who still marvelled at the bit of tension that had palpably snapped in two to let him breathe more easily.

"What's the most important thing?"

Schuldig chuckled. "You're well rested," he said matter-of-factly and shrugged. "Depression won't let you rest properly, and an exhausted mind can't heal." He tilted his head. "And I'm the total package. No pills, no nightmares, no loops of thoughts that won't let you settle into sleep. Just me." His eyes glinted. "And your mind remembering your body."

Omi absent-mindedly rubbed the skin on his arm. His skin was soft, and the touch was so... _there_.

Schuldig reached across the table and took a hold of Omi's hand. "Even your depression can't bury who you are entirely. You're a very sensual and sensitive man."

Omi thought that he should pull back his hand, but he _felt_ like he really didn't want to. There were holes, and, like Schuldig said, now that he knew they were there, he wanted more.

"That makes you vulnerable in an attack," Schuldig continued. He turned the hand in his and ran his thumb over the pulse point at the wrist. "But if you're aware of it, if you make it your own, you're all the more powerful, and nobody can use it against you." He paused and waited for Omi to raise his head and return the look, as if he was preparing for a punch line...  
"Care for a swim?" Schuldig asked, quite innocently, knowing exactly what the words would shake loose.

Omi very nearly gasped. Just the mere thought of cool water wrapping his skin and his body floating weightlessly made the hairs on his arms stand and goose bumps rise... It also made Schuldig laugh and Omi blush.

"As I said," Schuldig said, satisfied that his assessment was correct. "I think you may have missed your body a lot."

Omi finally pulled back his hand and stood. "I will just... get my swimwear.

Schuldig leaned back in his seat. "You could always swim naked."

Omi's blush intensified. "I will _not_ swim naked!" he protested and went for the stairs. Then he remembered something and yelled over his shoulder, "And neither will you!"

Schuldig's laughter followed him upstairs.

*

Watching Omi in the water and feeling something akin to bliss radiate off him, Schuldig thought to himself that this young man could very easily become addictive. It also brought up the question again that he had so far skilfully avoided answering whenever Omi brought it up: namely, why the hell he was even doing this. Sure, he was following orders, but Kritiker only knew about Omi's mental state because Schuldig had told them about it. The vacation had been Schuldig's idea, as well.  
Most of that, he could put down to him being... professional and intent on delivering the best results.

But, fuck it all, he was actually _nice_ to the guy. And nobody had written _'play nice with the kittens'_ in his employment contract. Don't hurt the kittens, yes (though of course not in so many words); behave professionally, also, yes; create an atmosphere that won't have them want to kill you after two minutes, yes (he'd got that order almost verbatim, though not in writing).

He let Omi's emotions distantly wash over him, finding him apprehensive, confused, and, yes, still depressed, but very determined to allow himself to feel, now that he remembered how to go about it.  
There would be more hurdles to master, Schuldig knew. Just because he could help Omi feel better, that didn't mean that whatever had made him crash was gone, but at least he was now in a state to face it... One month was an optimistic estimate, even with Schuldig's special brand of help.

Schuldig sighed when another wave of Omi's determination hit him, a wave that said that Omi would not tolerate anything in the way of taking control of his life again, no matter what that life might still throw at him.  
He'd always known that he and Bombay were a lot more alike than either of them (or their collective team mates) would have thought possible and/or acceptable.

Schuldig was also self-aware enough to realise that this had been the reason that he'd gone after Omi with so much more personal and malicious intent than anyone else. They'd all fought each other, sure, but Omi... Omi's history combined with the near endless capacity for joy had made his hackles rise in jealousy and contempt.

Then, once their work dynamic had changed, and Weiß and Schwarz were no longer the polar opposites of the moral spectrum (though Schuldig freely admitted that he was much closer to the sinister end and didn't mind), and they had ended up as competition more than enemies, Omi had become a welcome distraction in the form of a fiery sprite in the field.

All of Weiß had changed in his mind, with time. He'd probably been right the day before when he'd thought that they'd simply tried to kill each other for too long, and he'd grown... used to them. He supposed his telepathy played a part in that. People's minds would of course become... familiar to him when exposed to them for long enough. It had never been an issue before. Before, he'd never been exposed to decent human beings for any extended periods of time. Schwarz were decent to him (if not to others), but that was the grand total of people he'd grown close to.

And now there was Weiß, who were annoying, but ultimately... sufferable. His lips quirked at that thought.

Once he had decided that, if he wasn't to kill any of them, he might as well be fine with living with their continued existence, he had begun to allow them in the back of his head as he'd done with Schwarz, though not to the same extent. They were just always... around. Their business was a small world. A world that kept itself small, because most didn't live for very long.

Naturally, it hadn't taken him very long to notice that Omi's capacity for joy was being buried beneath layers of dull grey. Grey didn't suit either of them. They needed vibrancy, much more than any of the others. Then Crawford had announced that they'd combine forces, and Schuldig had seen no reason anymore to keep Omi's situation to himself.

And now they were here, for better or worse (if all went well, better for them and worse for their targets...), and Omi had called him _amazing_.

Which was another thing he hadn't known much of. Normal people either feared him or deemed him useful.  
There was one early childhood memory that had faded into near obscurity. The memory of a little girl who didn't think of him as a freak or an abomination, but who'd merely thought that _'talking with their eyes'_ as she'd called it in childlike innocence was fun. Of course, that was before he'd been _harvested_ by Rosenkreuz at age nine. Harvesting meaning that agents came by and killed everyone associated with a child they wanted and then disappeared. Even though his mother would have given up her son for the next shot of whatever she'd been on, at the time, but harvesting doubled as a training exercise for future assassins.  
Rosenkreuz certainly was no bed of roses, and the abuse merely changed form and didn't disappear, but at least they'd fed him and gave him a purpose, however twisted it may have been.

And Rosenkreuz brought him to Brad. To Schwarz. Without hesitation, he would walk through fire for them, mostly because they'd already done that together. They were evil, yes, but not inhuman.

 

His trip down memory lane came to an end when he noticed Omi's thoughts slowly entering another loop and the water losing its spell.

Omi seemed to notice the same thing and morosely came out of the pool.

Schuldig waited for him at the rim.

Omi stood there for a moment, shivering and unwilling to look up. One hand held the other arm in a sort of self-hug. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, and Schuldig incredulously blinked at him.

"What the fuck for?" he demanded to know, and Omi finally looked up. "You've been here less than a _day_ , Tsukiyono! What did you expect?"

Omi shrugged uncomfortably. "You... helped me feel better, and... I don't want to seem ungrateful..."

Schuldig kept staring. "That's your depression talking," he stated, firmly. "Somebody helping you doesn't obligate you to automatically be cheerful. That's not how it works."

"But... what you did. It worked. It _did_."

"I _told_ you. That's parlour tricks. You still have to do the work; I can only make it easier."

Omi returned the heated look with a hesitant one of his own, before the determination reared its head again.

Schuldig smirked slowly. "Ready to get to work?"

Omi was terrified... but he was also a very courageous young man. He nodded.

 

Schuldig told him to put on a t-shirt and join him in the kitchen.

"Cut the veg and start talking," he ordered his patient and snickered when Omi obeyed without question but definitely with a defiant look.  
"Just another parlour trick," he said and took a seat, obviously not planning to help with the meal. "Cooking will keep you distracted while you talk, so your mind will have a harder time falling into set patterns. Human brains are designed to protect us from painful memories..." he paused and waited for Omi to return his intense look, "... I won't let it."

Omi visibly braced himself for painful (mental) impact and determinedly started washing vegetables.

"Well, then," Schuldig announced cheerfully, "let's start with the downwards spiral that interrupted your swimming earlier."

Omi stared through the Caribbean pepper in his hands. "It wasn't... a thought. Just a general..."

"Keep washing."

Omi swallowed heavily and scrubbed, at first gently and then soon nearly mutilated the poor pepper. "Just a general feeling of emptiness, inadequacy, _disappointment_. Knowing I can't but go in a direction, but..." The pepper broke in his hands, and he abruptly put it aside, picking up the next one. "Not wanting to." His words failed him, and he kept scrubbing.

"I can decode that for you," Schuldig said, nonchalantly. There wasn't really a reason for him to phrase it as an offer, but he wanted to know if Omi was desperate enough yet to ask for it. And he wanted to know if Omi already had an idea. This particular issue seemed pretty obvious to him, even if he hadn't been able to read minds, and Omi must have been aware of _something_ , though it was entirely possible that he couldn't let himself just _see_ it.

"Yes!" The word was forced out of Omi as if an invisible grey hand had tried to keep it hidden, keep it veiled. "Get it _out_!"

Yes, Omi definitely had an idea. Schuldig had always found it interesting that depressions of any couleur had a self-defence mechanism that kept the affected person from either helping themselves or getting help. And sometimes, all it took was a little epiphany. In Omi's case, however, and for several reasons, it either took someone like Schuldig or months or even years of medication and therapy. Omi was a strong young man, but, for some reason, Schuldig had not only reflexively shied away from just letting Kritiker and their people deal with their troubled team leader... he had actively offered a tempting alternative. Too tempting for Kritiker to turn down, and even too tempting to let anything (like Omi himself or his team mates) get in the way of the execution.

"It's the other way around," Schuldig said calmly, distracting Omi momentarily with the question what he could possibly have got turned on its head. "Inadequacy and disappointment. Little Mamoru was kidnapped, and your crackpot family wouldn't pay the ransom. If anyone's a disappointment, it's them, not you. Keep breathing."

Omi scrubbed his eyes as much as the vegetables, but he still managed to breathe through it. Must have been all those parlour tricks. Just a day earlier, much less would have sent him over the edge.

"Then your Persia entered the scene, and, let's be honest, he was only marginally less insane than the rest of your family." He tilted his head. "And that's the direction you think you're headed. Genetics. So instead of moving in your own direction, you stopped moving entirely. The emptiness is the result of that, it wasn't there first."

Schuldig blinked, startled, when Omi didn't react to that, but instead a different image unexpectedly popped up in Omi's mind.  
The very vivid memory of Ouka dying.  
Well, damn. That was... inconvenient. Schuldig concentrated and traced that image back to where it affected Omi's mental state. Probably not the most ethical course of action (he wouldn't have trouble sleeping because of it, or care at all, really), but it could become difficult to work with Omi if the kitten kept digging up the blame for his sister's death. Detaching that from the rest of the trauma seemed entirely reasonable (no, still not moral) in return for getting Omi on track where he belonged.

He blinked again when he realised... that this particular incident didn't even feed into the depression directly.  
Huh. That couldn't be right. He tilted his head, searching deeper. It had been a terrible loss that had left painful scars, but Omi seemed to have allowed himself to heal.  
Schuldig, stunned, leaned back in his seat. Well, wasn't that just _fascinating_. And entirely unexpected. While there was still pain, Omi was also pragmatic enough to realise that Ouka had been just another death in their line of work.

So... then why did that memory pop up...? Schuldig followed the mental trail further. It wasn't so much a memory of Schuldig as it was a memory of Schwarz tied to the Takatori family, and... ah.

"It wasn't your birthday," Schuldig suddenly said out loud, making Omi drop another pepper and turn around. "At least not only. It's been becoming clear a few months ago that, well, we'd end up on vaguely the same side of the non-law," he elaborated, not without a certain amount of amusement. "That's what triggered a relapse of your inadvisable memory technique. You were trying to find a path of your own, and then you realised that you would have to work with people who worked for the Takatoris."

Omi stared at him, gobsmacked. "What?"

"You thought you'd end up like them, no matter what you did," Schuldig concluded triumphantly. Man, he was really good. If he gave a fuck about people in general, he should do this professionally. Except that he couldn't even spare half a fuck for anyone not relevant to him in some way. And as he'd just been recapping in his mind, earlier, there aren't that many people on that list.

"Well, I am!" Omi protested, but Schuldig couldn't help but notice that Omi seemed much more clear-headed than he had before, so he smirked.  
Omi wasn't as amused. "It's not funny! I'm a killer, just like-"

Omi jerked mid-sentence as Schuldig pushed a little something into his mind.

At first, Omi's eyes widened, then his face morphed into a mask of disgust. "Schu!" He brushed over his body in an attempt to remove the invisible feeling of filth crawling over him. "Stop it! Fucking hell! That's _disgusting_!"

Schuldig propped his chin on his hand and stopped projecting, obediently. At least he got the kid to swear, again. "Did that feel like something cooked up in your own head?" he asked, innocently.

"No! What on earth was that?"

"Masafumi. He had the most messed-up imagination."

All of Omi's mental loops came to screeching a halt.

"Want a taste of the others?" Schuldig asked innocently, knowing quite well what the response would be before Omi could voice it.

" _NO_!"

Schuldig chuckled. "Kitten, you're going to be fine. And I don't even think it'll take you that long to start believing it."

Omi watched Schuldig for a long moment. "I'm not going mad?"

"No. Well," he added immediately, "no madder than any of us." He couldn't help it. He just had to add, "No _badder_ than any of us."

Omi snorted before he could stop himself. "That isn't exactly reassuring," he said, but he was smiling.

Schuldig refrained from commenting further. It was obvious that Omi was definitely reassured.

Omi kept up the eye contact for a while longer. It wasn't awkward, exactly. It was... evaluating. Almost comfortable. Schuldig let him and just responded in kind, not even reading him.

Finally, Omi huffed a small laugh. "I guess there are worse things."

Schuldig snickered. "Some people might beg to differ."

" _I_ was certainly one of them," Omi replied, distractedly. "Should have started with the root vegetables..." he murmured.

Schuldig watched Omi work and decided to leave him his musings. If things got out of hand, he could always direct the discussion elsewhere.

"You gave me enough reasons, after all," Omi continued, working with the cassava.

"I did," Schuldig confirmed noncommittally.

Omi paused, then shrugged and continued his preparations. "Then you ditched your even more evil employers, joined Kritiker for whatever reason, and now we're here..." He turned around, his eyes no longer even the least bit clouded, and raised an eyebrow. "And I'm still trying to figure out why you would do this."

Well, Schuldig couldn't blame him. He didn't really know, either.

Omi eerily seemed to read his expression as if... he could read his mind. He smiled benignly. "Not sure I buy your story that you just wanted a holiday."

Schuldig studied Omi for a while. "You're intriguing," was what he eventually said.

Omi considered that. "Better," was his verdict, and he smirked before returning to his cooking.

Schuldig had to smirk a bit too. Not that it mattered. Omi didn't see it, and his darker thoughts had apparently disappeared for the time being, again.  
He let Omi prepare their lunch in surprisingly companionable silence.

Then, once lunch was eaten and they both sat outside, Omi let his eyes roam over the landscape. He wasn't feeling particularly depressed, more mellow. He was aware of the beauty before him, but there was still a kind of veil over his perception.

"Alright?" Schuldig asked, and Omi hummed in confirmation before turning his head and looking at his companion.

Omi smiled slightly, studying Schuldig. "This place suits you," was the unexpected comment.

Curious, Schuldig telepathically followed Omi's musings, taking the comment as an invitation to do so.  
Omi was thinking about the colours of their environment and Schuldig's flaming hair, his piercing eyes, and the sharp angles.  
Schuldig tilted his head, his hair falling off one shoulder. "Thank you, Liebling." Such lovely compliments warranted a bit of acknowledgement. "When I'm done with you, you'll fit here too."

Omi's smile dimmed a bit. It wasn't that he still thought that Schuldig couldn't make him better (even in such a short time); he'd proven he could, often enough. Omi fully expected to be... alright, in the end. He did not, however, expect to be as... vibrant, as the German. Vibrant in every way. Emotionally, professionally.  
"You don't do things halfway, do you?" Omi asked, softly.

"Doing things halfway is not worth the time of doing them," Schuldig replied without hesitation, not fazed by Omi's continuous mental leaps, since he could see the questions and the thoughts that led up to them before Omi could put them into words.  
He also knew that it was quite effective to use as a tactic when confronted with someone who needed a bit of shaking up. He pointed at their dishes. "Let's clean this up, and we can go snorkelling or something."

As expected, Omi blinked. It only took a second before his mind caught up with him, and he responded with voiceless excitement.  
"You know where?"

Schuldig chuckled. "I arrived two days before you and investigated."

Omi had to giggle at that. "I'm sure you did."

"Ten minutes' walk," Schuldig said, nodding seawards. "This house is at an excellent location. And we should go shopping, after. We need more food, but for that, we'll have to get back and pick up the car."

The prospect of shopping conjured another smile onto Omi's lips. Omi was imagining a lively market. Well. That was something this island could offer him.

"Snorkelling, first," Schuldig decided. "Never did that before," he added after seeing a hint of child-like enthusiasm in Omi's eyes. Maintaining enthusiasm is easier when one is not alone with it, after all.

*

Omi strolled through the market, his bags full of fruit and vegetables. Some meat and bread. The bustling people, lively colours, and busy sounds made him feel almost disassociated. Not in the way that would make him lose himself, but... He was there, but he was also still in the water, watching all the cheerful sea life and his companion whose hair floated around his head like a creature with its own mind. If he was completely honest, Schuldig was as intriguing to watch as the local fauna. He was rather, well, pleasing to behold. Bastard that he was, he was still beautiful. Omi wondered if some of that attraction was just Schuldig helping him get better and touching his mind the way he did. But, no, probably not. Omi had always acknowledged that Schwarz were all quite good looking (even Farfarello), even when they'd been out to kill Weiß and do a number of other horrible things. And now, Schuldig just happened to be the first one he was close to since… their unholy alliance with the devil they knew.

His musings were interrupted by the thought that Schuldig might have heard all of it, and his eyes darted around, looking for him. When he saw the shock of fiery hair, he thought, _'Did you hear all that?'_

Schuldig, predictably, turned to look at him. {Only when you direct thoughts at me, as you just did. Other than that, I only keep an eye on the surface mood and listen in when I notice something upsetting you.} He raised an eyebrow. {You're not upset, now, are you?}

Omi shook his head, dazedly. It hadn't really occurred to him that he'd have anything resembling privacy when in Schuldig's company.

Schuldig rolled his eyes. {I do have shields, you know. I don't have to hear every thought of everyone around me. And I damn well don't want to.}

{Makes sense, I suppose,} Omi said, surprisingly easily slipping into Schuldig's type of speech. He turned away and continued strolling through the market, feeling a strange sense of... familiarity. As if... He stopped walking. He'd felt like that several times during their outing, today.  
He looked for Schuldig again. {Did you do that?}

Schuldig didn't look up from inspecting mangoes. {What do you think I might have done?} he asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

Omi blinked, then huffed. Schuldig had asked him something similar before. He didn't really know if that was because the German liked to tease him, or because it forced Omi to look more closely at what went on in his mind.

{Both,} came the amused answer.

Omi bit his lips to keep himself from laughing. {It feels like... a bit like a déjà vu. Or something. Not like I'd been here before,} he quickly added, {just the feeling is... familiar.}

{Very good, Liebling,} Schuldig said, _'sounding'_ both approving and mocking. {I moved some of the good sensations into your long-term memory. Like _so_ ,} he willingly explained, giving the same odd sensation another _push_ , making Omi jump slightly when he felt it... {It's easier to establish healthier habits when your mind thinks you've been doing it all along.}

Omi studied the feelings and sensations swirling inside him, and he supposed he could see Schuldig's point. Still... He smiled sardonically. {Another parlour trick?}

Schuldig's smirk widened. {Exactly.}

Omi's smile widened, in response. There was still work he'd have to do, but now he could remember feeling good. Remembered it like it had always been there...

{It _has_ always been there, kitten.}

Omi held the shopping bags closer and inhaled the fresh scent of the fruit on top of their other groceries.  
{Thank you.}

Though Omi didn't look at Schuldig, he could _'hear'_ his smirk in his head.  
{See? What people would do for my treatment...} Schuldig reminded him whimsically.

Omi considered that and had to agree. Even after such a short time, the advantages of having someone literally inside one's head were innumerable. (As were the dangers, he supposed.)  
He strolled ahead, mentioning off-handedly, {I'm letting you rummage around in my mind and didn't jump on the next plane, Kritiker be damned. _And_ may I remind you that I know first-hand what you are capable of.} He looked over his shoulder again. His expression was relaxed, though the smile was missing, now. {I'm more than just aware what people might do to have you help them. Wouldn't you agree?} He raised an eyebrow.

Schuldig jogged over to catch up with him. "I did think that you didn't put up as much of a fight as I had expected..."

Omi shrugged and walked back to where they had parked the car. "Maybe because you're acting much nicer than _I_ expected."

Schuldig snorted. "I was ordered by both Kritiker and Crawford to fix your depression and whatever else you're hiding in there, and adding a new trauma probably isn't the best way to do that. But what do I know, I'm not a fucking psychologist."

Omi snorted a giggle and then giggled some more, stowing away their purchases. "I'm sorry, it's just..." He shook his head. "I was imagining you with a patient on a couch."

Schuldig grinned. "Well, sir, what do you think your recurring dream about the tap dancing octopodes means?"

Omi laughed. "I don't think that is quite how it works..."

"How should I know? Psychologists have to work with whatever the patients can tell them. I'd just go in there and get it out myself."

"For some reason I doubt you'd have the temperament for counselling."

"Hey! I'll have you know, my success rate is at one hundred percent."

Omi closed the boot. "I'm your first and only patient."

"And you're doing spectacularly, after one day, if I do say so myself."

Omi hesitated. The only possible reply was in his mind long before he voiced it.  
"Can't argue with that," he said, sounding as if he was unsure what exactly it meant. 

As the day was slowly drawing to a close, the world was losing some of its edge again, some of its saturation. Omi almost sensed that Schuldig was picking up on that and narrowed his eyes.  
"Are you _'tweaking'_ something again?"

Schuldig chuckled and stepped right up to him, ignoring his defiance and tipped up his chin with a crooked finger. "You're tired," he said, smirking whimsically. "That's all."

"It's not even that late..." Omi protested.

"Your mind hasn't processed as many external sensations as today in a long time. I may make it easier, but you still have to process everything on your own."

Omi blinked, contemplating that he did feel somewhat tired...

Schuldig just laughed again and opened the passenger door. "In you hop, Liebling. Let's go."

Omi did as he was told, examining the sensations coursing through him. There had been rather a lot of sensations that day, that was true. The day before had been mostly just shock, and he'd rather not think about what he'd been like before he got here...  
When Schuldig started the car, another thought interrupted Omi's musings. "What does that word mean? What you called me?"

"I'm just teasing you, kitten," Schuldig said, smirking. "It means darling."

Omi rolled his eyes, but he was amused. "You think calling me by my first name is too familiar, and you call me darling, instead?"

"Fine, _Omi_ ," he said, pointedly. "If you insist."

Omi didn't react negatively – or at all – to hearing his chosen name. He just huffed another little giggle.  
"Why an endearment, then? You know, what with you being a nasty assassin and everything..."

Schuldig snickered. "Because I've seen what you're capable of, being a nasty assassin _yourself_ and everything, and using endearments is delightfully evil." 

To his own surprise, Omi didn't seem to mind the reminder. Perhaps Schuldig was already starting to rub off on him. 

"And because people never know whether or not I insult them when I address them with German expressions."

Omi laughed, feeling rather bold, by now. "That does sound like you, dear."

Schuldig burst out laughing. Omi felt rather proud of himself for having managed that. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who slowly got used to the company. Though given Schuldig's strange remarks, the German had probably started to slowly acclimatise to Weiß a while back. Omi knew that ordinary people who weren't extraordinary telepaths would get used to a person even if they only saw them on television regularly. He'd read somewhere that the brain would eventually treat such media personalities as if they were part of the family, simply because of the continuous exposure. Being exposed to minds must have been so much more intimate. Schuldig would know everything, from the best to the worst things, from charming quirks to annoying habits.

It would have to be such an odd way of co-existing, and probably part of the reason why Schuldig had agreed to try and help Omi.

That explained at least some aspects of the most pressing questions that had kept Omi busy all day. It explained _Schuldig's_ behaviour. It did not explain why Omi himself was more... acquiescent than anyone could have expected or even hoped for.

Right now, Schuldig didn't appear to read him, so he voiced this one worry out loud. "Did you do something that made me fight you less while we're here?"

Schuldig briefly took his eyes off the road. "No," he said quite simply. "I couldn't in this short time and without you noticing. I could make you _say_ that I didn't do anything whenever I want, of course, but I couldn't make you believe it."

Omi pondered that. "You could have started a while ago..."

Schuldig snickered, not at all bothered by the accusation. "Yeah, because you were so very happy to see me when you got here."

Omi's lips quirked in a small smile. "Point."

"And..." Schuldig frowned, as if he wasn't sure of what he wanted to say or if he should say it at all, but then he continued regardless, "... you're unusually receptive to my presence."

"Your presence?"

Schuldig tapped his temple with a smirk. "This presence." The smirk disappeared, and he just looked thoughtful. "You can sense me surprisingly well for someone who doesn't have a _'talent'_." The emphasis made quite clear what he meant with the word.

Omi shrugged. "Yeah, I notice you around," he admitted, and Schuldig nodded (clearly not surprised). "I also usually notice the others."

That got Omi some more attention.  
"Is that so?" Schuldig focused on the road as they entered their driveway. "Isn't that interesting."

They didn't talk about that any more that evening, and Omi got more and more tired almost with every minute. They only had a small supper before worries and questions lost relevance (for Omi at least), and the young man fell into an exhausted but relaxing sleep.

*

Schuldig didn't find rest quite as easily. He hadn't been reading Omi, not really. But some of the questions Omi had asked himself resonated with Schuldig like an echo. One such question he brushed aside. They had found an unlikely liking to each other, and questioning facts never got him anywhere.

No, no. What interested him now was Omi's trace of ability. Probably some form of empathy, he thought, as he sat on the terrace with a glass of good rum (seeing as he was on the Caribbean island infamous for its alcohol consumption and all).

Omi could sense the presence of his team, and he could sense Schuldig's presence and his mental touch. Schuldig could only assume that this was why Omi might have freaked out when he had arrived here, but then must have sensed that the telepath didn't pose any danger to him. What an odd notion. Somebody not fearing his presence.

Bemused, he monitored Omi's peaceful slumber for a while, as he went to bed. Such an interesting young man. Even with telepathic help, Schuldig hadn't expected for Omi to respond to it quite so quickly. He didn't get to ponder that much more, as he fell asleep from one thought to the next.

 

When he woke up the next morning, the light falling into his room suggested that he had slept for longer than he'd planned to. A quick sweep of the house told him that Omi was already up and about (and in no distress of any kind).

He found him outside by the pool, drinking coffee and reading a book. He'd already eaten his breakfast, but Schuldig's was waiting for him.

"Good morning, Schu."

Schuldig blinked. "Where did you find a book?" He was almost certain that Omi hadn't brought any.

Omi giggled. "We have a small library. There's some films there, too."

Schuldig blinked at him, then shook his head. "I need coffee." He dragged himself into the kitchen to make some, empty it in one gulp, make a second one, and then take it to the table outside. After a few minutes he felt capable of forming coherent thoughts.  
"How are we feeling this morning?" he asked, nursing his cup of coffee.

Omi considered that for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Calm," he said. "I feel calm."

Schuldig could hear more thoughts in Omi's mind, swirling just beneath the surface, but he decided not to dig or push. There was no rush, and he didn't think Omi actively wanted to hide anything.

"One of the things that worried me was that I accepted you so readily..." Omi admitted. Accepted him in the same house, on the team, in his head where all things were that he didn't say out loud and didn't have to.

Schuldig huffed. "I can see how that would be the case..." Though they hadn't even been here together for two full days, it was already clear that Omi wouldn't have any qualms working with Schuldig. That had been entirely different upon his arrival.

Omi smirked. "I realised that I like the feel of your mental presence, and that's fine. It's no one's business but my own."

Schuldig pushed some of his hair out of his face that had fallen forward when he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh?"

Omi shrugged a bit. "I just thought that... if it's okay to like you, it's okay to like myself."

Schuldig let his hand drop that was still playing with his hair. "You think accepting me will justify accepting yourself?"

Omi hummed a bit in contemplation. "I guess."

"That's stupid."

Omi frowned at him, suddenly angry. "I can like whoever I want to. And why are you protesting anyway?"

Schuldig leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Don't go making me into a good guy. I'm not."

Omi sighed a bit. "I thought we'd established that I wasn't a good guy, either?"

"I don't think that compares."

"Does it matter?"

Schuldig considered that. That was actually a good question. Did it matter?  
They were on the same team, now. How much weight had the time before they got there? Well, he wasn't the one to decide that, was he?  
"Your choice," he finally said.

Omi's smirk was back. "I do believe I already told you what that was."

Schuldig could tell that Omi wasn't lying, and that wasn't the issue. The issue was, "You acclimatise quickly."

"Well, you did help. I can still feel the numbness, a bit like... a web, always reminding me that it's still there. And sometimes it demands to be acknowledged, I guess." He sighed. "Well, it hasn't been long," he said, smiling slightly, "and I'm already a lot better. At least I _know_ that it's there, now."  
He thought about that for a few moments, and Schuldig let him. "But what you said, right on the first day, that I needed to live in my body again?" His eyes lost focus as he visibly listened to his body, felt it, marvelled at the fact that it was there and made him feel... "I mean you did do something about that, but I think that your presence helps, too. It keeps me... awake. Aware. Kind of."

"You're probably a bit empathic," Schuldig said before he could think better of it. "Just a hunch, I don't have a basis for comparison, since Esszett didn't find empathy to be a valuable talent. I always thought that was a dangerous blind spot, but..." He smirked a bit. "When it came down to it, they had a lot of those, anyway."

Omi grinned. "Good thing, that, too," he said with feel when something else crossed his mind. "Why did you take them down?"

Schuldig stretched in his seat with a self-satisfied smile. "We don't take to oppression well. None of us do." The smile dimmed a bit. "It proved difficult to get rid of them, but we managed, in the end." Some of his darker thoughts reared their heads. He hoped all those bastards rotted in hell.

"We did help, you know..." Omi felt he should mention, and Schuldig could confirm that his new team mate had sensed his briefly flaring hatred. He would have to watch himself around the kitten. Now that Omi was aware of it, he would no doubt learn to use it. An empath could be a valuable asset (and disquietingly intrusive).

"Ah, yes, the enemy of my enemy..."

 _'Is a damn sexy assassin,'_ Omi thought loud and clear, though he didn't actively direct the compliment at Schuldig.

Schuldig heard it regardless, and his surprise must have shown on his face, because Omi laughed out loud.  
"You're a cheeky little tart, you know that?" Schuldig let him know.

Omi giggled some more and then stood. "I'm going swimming," he said with another look over his shoulder.

"Did you just check me out?" Schuldig asked, incredulously.

Omi glided into the water of their pool smirking and shrugged a bit. "You're nice to look at."

Schuldig pointed a finger at him. "You're walking on thin ice. I was never good at resisting temptation, and you should know better than to provoke me."

Omi dove under once and then swam a few strokes. "Stop nagging and join me!" he called out.

There was quite a lot of unambiguous intent behind Omi's order, Schuldig could tell. Had he been an honourable person with half a conscience, he would have drawn a clear line between himself and the person who was basically his patient. He didn't even really know where Omi's sudden interest came from and if it wasn't just a side-effect of Schuldig nudging some more happy feelings.  
But... he was not honourable, and his conscience had been successfully removed during his training.

And Omi didn't feel desperate, just... well. Schuldig could generally relate.

In the end, he thought, he might as well have a swim, too. The water was tempting... and Omi was in a playful mood, swirling around.

"It's still there," Omi said after a while of paddling from one end to the other, "and it feels like a lump in my stomach sometimes."

Ah. They were talking about the depression, then. Schuldig hadn't been sure what the sudden breach of their silence meant.  
"Of course it is. And it's going to be present for a while yet." He rested with his back against the edge of the pool and his elbows on the rim.

"But it's becoming easier to ignore," Omi added. "Or to distract myself from it, maybe." He swam to the other side, facing Schuldig and mirroring his stance.

"I see." And he did see. "So you think that I could help with the _distraction_ some more."

Omi shrugged, unapologetically. "You did say rooting my mind in my body would help."

Schuldig huffed. "You realise that the magically healing cock is one of the more ridiculous porn tropes, yes?"

Omi laughed, then studied Schuldig (and probably not just on the surface).  
"I told you I like the feel of your mind. I'm just curious about the feel of your skin." With that, he pushed off the wall and was in front of Schuldig in a second, wrapping his arms around the German's neck.

Schuldig felt Omi's apprehension come off him in palpable waves. Omi wasn't afraid, per se, but nervous and determined, and even just this bit of skin contact made him quiver and yearn for more.  
Omi probably wasn't wrong that this might not be the worst thing for them to do, but with their history, that assessment could be very, very wrong. And Schuldig was very, very close to no longer caring about reasons why this was a bad idea.

In a quick move, he switched their positions and pressed Omi against the rim of the pool, holding his wrists.  
They were breathing each other's air, and Omi's eyes darkened. A recent memory in the back of Omi's mind caught Schuldig's attention. It was one from earlier that same morning. Apparently, Omi had used the time on his own to contemplate a selection of delectable things. So perhaps this wasn't such a knee-jerk decision, after all... Schuldig would have to dig deeper. Later. There were more pressing (ahem) matters to attend to.

"Last warning," Schuldig growled. "Tempt me again, and I will have you." Omi, out of breath and trembling against him, didn't back down in the least. His arousal was as physically apparent as his determination mentally. Schuldig saw Omi's next action in his thoughts before the still present apprehensions let the young man act on them.

Omi kept his eyes firmly on Schuldig's, leaned forward daringly and ran the tip of his tongue over Schuldig's lips.

That was a really fucking smooth move, Schuldig had to give him that. "Well, you can't say I didn't warn you," he said and replied to Omi's teasing with the only answer he could think of. By licking into the other's mouth in a deep kiss.

Inexperience didn't hold Omi back, and he responded in kind after the briefest of moments of hesitation.

And Schuldig could tell that Omi was getting what he wanted, what he had been hoping for. He could hear the expectations resonate through Omi's mind with the flood of sensations.

Omi freed his wrists from Schuldig's hands and wrapped both arms and legs around the firm body pressed against him. Schuldig used the new position to undulate his pelvis against Omi's, making the young man whimper into their kiss.

Schuldig chuckled. "Inviting, aren't you?" He moved again, cupped Omi's face with one hand, while the other slid lower to free both their cocks of their restraining shorts.

Omi gasped in response to the firm hold and took another kiss. He picked up Schuldig's slow and sensual rhythm and matched it with his mouth.  
When Schuldig did something particularly clever with his hand, Omi gasped, breaking the kiss and opening dazed eyes.  
"I can feel you," he whispered, breathlessly.

Schuldig was about to say something cheeky, but then realised that Omi wasn't talking about physically feeling him. He slowed his hand and reached out with his telepathy and... it wasn't just a trace of empathy that greeted him, it was a full-blown _wave_ that swept over him, Omi picking up what Schuldig was feeling and revelling in it before feeding it back into a loop between them.  
"Holy shit..." he gasped, falling right into the addled mind that welcomed him. He hungrily claimed another kiss, devouring Omi with hardly a coherent thought left. His telepathy responded to what Omi sent to him without a conscious decision and just dragged him under.

Omi squealed when the ecstasy they both felt suddenly multiplied and could just hold on for dear life, unable to even kiss anymore  
"There's so much of you!" he babbled near incomprehensibly, and Schuldig wanted to say that there was so much of both of them, but why would they need words, why would they ever need to speak again, it was so clear that they both just _were_ , that there was so much of both of them, that they could both take over each other so thoroughly that they would just burn to ashes and float away in an endless loop of passion...

It was a miracle the both of them didn't just drown right where they were. Orgasm took them in a blind jumble of sensations.

"Well, fuck," was what Schuldig finally said once he'd caught his breath enough to do so.

Omi giggled, breathlessly. "Take me to bed and you can," he offered, already sounding way too coherent again for Schuldig's liking.

Schuldig pulled back enough to stare at him, incredulously. "I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't do things halfway." He smirked.  
"But first..." he changed the topic and put an arm's length of space between them. "You and I are going to talk. I want to know what you were thinking about this morning, because this," he gestured at the distance between himself and Omi, "is not normal, and I want to know what happened."

"I'd just..." Omi tried to organise his thoughts. He clearly knew what he was feeling, but he didn't have the training to put it into words. "I'd noticed that I could feel you more, the longer we were here."

Schuldig followed the train of thought in Omi's head and narrowed his eyes. "Not the longer we were here," he corrected. "The more I touched your mind."

Omi considered that, then nodded.

"My telepathy enhances your empathy," Schuldig concluded.

"Is that... bad?" Omi asked, hesitantly.

Schuldig considered that. If it _were_ bad, Crawford would never have sent them here. So it probably wasn't bad, per se, it was just that it brought Omi a lot closer than he felt entirely comfortable with. Empaths were... personal.  
"Not while we're fucking," was what he said out loud, smirking. "But I'm going to have to teach you how to shield." He pulled both their shorts up again.

"For in-between" Omi asked, mischievously.

"Presumptuous. And cheeky," Schuldig said, kissing and then lightly biting Omi's lips. "But not wrong," he added with a smirk. "But later." He nodded towards the terrace. "Talk, first."

Omi shrugged, dove into the water to escape Schuldig's hold, and climbed out of the pool. "You know," he said, casually, padding to his towel. "I didn't think you'd be this diligent and serious when presented with temptation..."

Schuldig followed him. "I am when someone can get into my head without me noticing," he replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Ah..." Omi's eyes lit up in recognition. "Getting into other people's heads is your prerogative, then?"

"Damn straight." He slumped in a chair. "Get talking."

*

Omi gingerly sat down facing Schuldig. He was still floating on the high from their joint orgasm, but Schuldig did have a point that they should have a chat about what had just happened, and, almost more importantly, what he had been thinking about that morning.

He hadn't even been there for two whole days, and after his initial reaction to finding Schuldig in this house, what had just happened might have seemed a bit... uncharacteristic.

"Well, after the first shock, I started to notice that I kept trying to be suspicious of you but felt that I didn't need to. That's what I was thinking about this morning."

Schuldig nodded slowly. "It's not like it went past me that you're a lot more agreeable than expected."

"And then I could kind of sense your sleeping mind, and it just felt good." He raised his chin defiantly. "Things are allowed to just feel good, aren't they?"

Schuldig chuckled. "You won't hear me complain, kitten, relax."

But now that Omi had started, he saw no reason to hold himself back, anymore. "And according to you, being close to you made me sense you more, and you're gorgeous, so I don't see why I shouldn't want to take you to bed!" His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes flashed, angrily. "I'm not some innocent virgin! I mean, I guess I am a virgin, technically, anyway, but I'm not innocent, so I really shouldn't have to explain myself to you just because I want to have sex."

Schuldig held up his hands. "Absolutely," he said, placatingly. "It's just that you're not entirely stable –which is the reason we're here, if you remember – and I'm trying to make sure you didn't do this for the wrong reasons. You wouldn't be the first person who tries to numb themselves through sex."

Omi huffed. "And what we just did felt numbing to you, did it?"

Breath visibly caught in Schuldig's throat before he could answer. "Not in the least."

Omi crossed his arms, self-satisfied. He didn't know what else to say on the matter, since the only thing he'd been thinking about that morning was how good Schuldig felt and how very much he wanted to fuck him. And he thought that, well, feeling more was the whole reason for their exercise here, wasn't it?

Schuldig snickered, obviously having heard that thought, and made Omi blush. "You know, _'I want your cock up my ass,'_ isn't really considered an emotion."

Omi rolled his eyes but refused to comment.

"I'm beginning to think," the German continued, musingly, "that your latent empathy was another reason for you to lose it so badly."

Omi's eyes widened. He hadn't even known it was there before, how could it affect him if he didn't use it?

"Because you may not have consciously used it, but it was still there and let you sense more than you could process, because you didn't _know_ it was there," Schuldig theorised. "And I did read all four of you every now and again, so your talent probably got stronger over the years, just not strong enough."

"You're saying that..." Omi frowned a bit, "... deep down I knew I could feel more, but I could never quite get there, and that messed with my head?"

Schuldig tilted his head, silently agreeing and urging Omi to accept it.

"What about the other things, then?" Omi demanded to know. "My birthday, you guys working with us, my past? Everything?"

"That certainly didn't help. A bit of empathy alone doesn't drive people crazy, it just makes them, well, empathetic. Never mind that the feelings of your team mates were probably all over the place too, recently."

Omi snorted. "You can say that again." He took a moment to put his thoughts in order. The dark and empty sensations of the recent months were still lingering somewhere in his chest, but knowing where they had come from took off some of their fright.  
"So it isn't even really a depression, then?" was his conclusion.

Schuldig laughed. "Yeah, it is. Sorry."

Omi blinked, confused. "But it was just a reaction to what had been happening..."

Schuldig nodded. "There are probably as many reasons for depression as there are people suffering from it, and you're going to have to take the same road as everyone else. You have to find something that helps you cope enough that you can start dealing with what caused it."

Omi stared at the table top. That did make sense... but it was so weird having to admit to a depression. It felt like losing a battle.

"No," Schuldig interrupted his musings. "You're _starting_ a battle, not losing one. I can counter the effects of the illness, but to heal you have to learn to use your empathy properly, you need to realise that you're neither all good nor all evil," he smirked a bit, "and you have to realise that a horrible past doesn't mean you can't have a future."

Omi swallowed against the suspicious lump in his throat. He smiled a bit. "Simple as that."

"Simple as that," Schuldig confirmed with a one-sided tilt of his lips. "You'd be surprised how similar that is to what other people's depressions look like..."

Omi's confusion and denial settled a little. "No," he had to admit. "I don't think I would be."

Schuldig looked satisfied with that.

"Thanks," Omi had to add.

Schuldig grinned wolfishly. "Oh, it's my absolute _pleasure_ , Liebling."

Omi just knew that he was blushing, and another one of his liberating giggles broke free. He controlled himself quickly, though.  
"Good," he said, daringly. A little attitude was warranted, he decided. It was probably no mean feat to get Schuldig's attention...

"You're not wrong," Schuldig admitted. "You are delectable. In several ways." He added the last bit with a ridiculously blatant undertone.

Omi shifted in his seat. "Enough talking?" he asked, hopefully.

Schuldig laughed. "Eager. I like that." He leaned forward a bit and folded his hands on the table, indicating that he was not quite done talking, just now.  
"I need to have a look at your shields, first."

"I thought I didn't have any shields?"

"None to speak of, but your mind would have tried to erect some to protect itself..." He narrowed his eyes and looked as if he was staring right through Omi. "Yeah," he said, absently. "There is a bit of something there..."

Omi blinked. He could feel Schuldig's presence in his head, as he had before. But with every time, the man felt less like an intruder.

Schuldig hummed. "I think you unconsciously didn't allow the shields to strengthen."

Omi frowned. "Why would I do that?"

Schuldig straightened and his eyes cleared. He studied Omi with a curious little smile. "Because you crave contact very, very much."

Omi's arms went around himself without him noticing he was doing it, and he averted his eyes.

"To the point of self-destruction."

That just figured. So, Omi was just that poor little lost boy, wanting contact so much that he would destroy himself before just being normal. Poor, lost, _stupid_...

"Stop it!"

Omi jumped in his seat and finally returned Schuldig's penetrating (and quite angry) look with an uncertain one of his own.

"You're being stupid, _now_. You're an untrained empath with an illness, and none of that is your fucking fault! You can have both, you know. You can have empathic contact _and_ control. How do you think did I get this far? I need contact and control to survive without going insane, and it took a whole lot of work to do that, but, hey, I'm on top of the food chain, now."

Omi snorted.

Schuldig smirked. "And fucking me is definitely healthier than what you've been doing."

"Feels better too..."

Schuldig's smirk morphed into a leer (which was often indistinguishable from the smirk, anyway).  
"Let me just give you some idea how you can get a grasp of your shields, then I'll show you what else I can do _without_ my hands..."

Omi tried very hard not to say, _'Yes, please!'_ But given Schuldig's reaction, he didn't have to.

*

Alright, so Schuldig didn't do much more than give Omi a very, _very_ rudimentary idea of his shields before they were both getting increasingly distracted. Also, Omi's eagerness was a curious thing. He wasn't eager with the curiosity of someone with no experience but like someone who knew what he was missing. Which left the question...

"Didn't you say you were a virgin?" Schuldig asked when Omi had finally had enough of waiting and was leading Schuldig upstairs by a hand.

Omi blushed again, which was just endearing, really, and grinned. "I said _technically_ a virgin, if you remember," Omi corrected him, letting go of the hand to enter his room and rummage around in his bedside table for – well, wasn't he the well prepared boy scout – a tube of lube. "I've not been with anyone, but I do have... toys at home." The blush intensified if that was even possible, and the most delicious mental images entered Schuldig's mind.

Schuldig remained standing by the door. "Did you bring any?" That would be a sight to behold, though he could see in Omi's mind that the lube came along for the trip for the more classic type of masturbation.

"Didn't dare."

"Ah, shame. Maybe some other time, then. Wouldn't mind seeing _that_ show." Schuldig smirked a bit. "Hang on, I have some condoms in my room." He slipped out the door. "Be right back."  
When he returned, Omi gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

"Optimistic, weren't you?"

Schuldig sauntered closer and threw the condoms and a couple of towels on the bed. "I wasn't actually planning on using them on you, but I wasn't going to stay celibate for two months, either. There are other people on this island..."

Omi's expression spoke volumes of what he thought of Schuldig using those condoms on him, but there was still apprehension, too.  
"You realise that gay sex is very illegal on this island, right?" he quipped.

"I'd like to see them try and arrest me for it. Should be fun." He made Omi grin a bit, but Omi was also still eyeing the condom with eagerness and nervousness.  
"I think..." Schuldig mused, "... that I need to distract you a bit."

Before Omi could ask what he meant by that, he was being pressed into the mattress and kissed within an inch of his life. And as far as distractions went, that one proved amazingly effective.

Schuldig wasn't surprised to find that what little grasp of his shields Omi had disintegrated entirely under the assault of the senses, and he selfishly refused to care. Omi's entire being crashed over Schuldig like a tidal wave, and he no longer cared about consequences, just devouring everything that was so recklessly freely given.

He freed them both of their shorts before breaking the kiss and breathing heavily. "You... are dangerous," he accused Omi.

Omi's dazed eyes belied the mischief in his smirk, or perhaps confirmed it.  
"If I wasn't, we wouldn't be lying here, would we?"

Schuldig supposed that was true enough and nipped at Omi's lips. "If you were as innocent as most people think you are, we wouldn't be, no." Another kiss. "We wouldn't even be on this island."

Omi melted into the mattress with the next deep kiss and cradled Schuldig between his thighs, inviting him to join the lazy movements of his pelvis.

"People need edges," Schuldig murmured into Omi's neck who arched into the touch of the lips on the sensitive pulse point. "Preferably more rather than less, and I'm beginning to really like yours."

Omi laughed, hoarsely. Schuldig wasn't sure if Omi could consciously feel the connection of his telepathy with Omi's empathy vibrate between them or if he was reacting on instinct... but there was definitely a reaction. It felt as if their psychic abilities were broadcasting on the same wavelength.  
"I'm beginning to..." Omi gasped, "... not hate those edges as much as I used to."

Schuldig laughed and dove in for another kiss, while blindly searching for the tube of lube. "Please don't hate them on my account."

Omi giggled, and when Schuldig held up the tube he found on the sheets, Omi hesitated for barely a second before he nodded, frantically.  
He also lay there so invitingly open that Schuldig decided that he wanted to see all of that feast spread before him and kneeled up between Omi's still spread legs.

"Relax for me?" he said, though he could see that Omi was as relaxed as anyone could possibly be in such a situation. After all, they'd got off together not too long ago, and according to this curious young man, he was accustomed to penetration. The latter was such an intriguing image that Schuldig wanted to get some visuals with it, and for that, he needed Omi to focus not only on the present (though the way he was currently being looked at was quite flattering, Schuldig had to admit), but on the past, as well.

Schuldig tantalisingly let some lube trickle between Omi's cheeks and teased a finger over the hole that was instinctively twitching at the touch.  
He let the tip of his middle finger slip inside and said, "Tell me what you've been doing to this tempting little ass when you were alone in your room above the flower shop with none of the other Weiß boys any the wiser..."

As Schuldig had expected, Omi's eyes fell closed at the first teasing penetration, and his mind wandered back in time and into his room in Tokyo...  
"There's the... toys," Omi said, breathily, his thoughts giving the very graphic image of a collection of various shapes and sizes, all of which were tied to the memory of different sensations, sparking from the inside out.  
"It was the only thing that could still make me feel something for a little while."

Schuldig worked his finger completely inside and met next to no resistance.  
"Which is your favourite?"

Omi's chest heaved, and he hummed luxuriously at the second finger being slipped in.  
"I liked it when... when I was relaxed enough to just go slow. No, uhm... no vibrators or beads. Just..." He breathed heavily and arched upwards when Schuldig slowly started to experiment how Omi would react to prostate stimulation. "Just a dildo, just to..."

"To fuck yourself thoroughly," Schuldig finished for him, now slowly thrusting three fingers in and out, enjoying the physical and mental writhing.

"Yes," Omi admitted readily. "You're really good at this..."

Mostly for the hell of it and no longer merely in preparation, Schuldig had worked in four fingers now and was playing around the rim with his thumb.  
"And you're really receptive." His eyes were firmly on the tight hole closing around the width of his hand with only the thumb remaining outside and now toying with the soft skin of Omi's sac. "You look delicious."

Omi's eyes opened to slits, and he grinned. He licked his lips when he realised just how much of Schuldig was already inside of him.  
"You could probably go for the whole hand."

Schuldig gave an odd sound between a gasp and a chuckle. "I'm severely tempted, but I'd really rather just fuck you right now." He twisted his fingers upwards once more and then slowly withdrew them and wiped them on the towel he had brought.  
He remained sitting upright between Omi's legs, put on a condom, and then lifted Omi's hips and pulled him closer. Omi's legs fell over Schuldig's hips and spread further.  
"Like this okay? I want to see what I'm doing..."

Omi looked down the length of his body, realising that he would be able to see quite a bit like this, as well, and nodded.  
"Just get in me."

"No more delaying, then." Admittedly, the comment was mostly superfluous, too, but Schuldig needed a bit of grounding himself, as Omi's thoughts felt too good weaving around his own. He steadied his cock with his hand, cradling Omi's hip with the other, and pushed into the welcoming heat.

Omi grasped the sheets with both hands as he was finally being filled the way he wanted to be. Fingers were one thing – and Schuldig knew how to handle his – but feeling another's desire for him pulsate and claim him was incomparable.

And Schuldig received all of what Omi was thinking and feeling, the heat in his pelvis bleeding into his mind and sharpening it in all the vibrating colours they shared.

He thrusted shallowly for a few minutes before he had to give up on his plan to watch himself fucking into his willing bed mate. The contact wasn't enough, couldn't compete with their connection. He needed more touches, more skin, more taste...

Omi wrapped his arms around Schuldig's shoulders the moment he had moved over him to kiss him deeply and share all the skin contact they possibly could.

For an infinite moment, there was only a gossamer of a boundary between what their minds and their bodies shared, leaving them afloat.

Schuldig collapsed on Omi, never noticing the peak of his orgasm, just feeling his body sing in the aftermath.

They remained like that, breathing together and slowly coming down from their rush.

"What the hell was that?" Omi asked once he could string the thought together.

"What makes you think sex with me isn't always like that?" Schuldig couldn't help but boast, insincerely.

Judged by Omi's snort, he was less than impressed. "Please, your shields were so shot, I could feel your surprise as clearly as my own."

Schuldig chuckled and lifted his head to prop it on a hand. "I guess we discovered another reason why you were having troubles grounding your mind in your body."

Omi ran soft and lazy fingers over Schuldig's back. "And? What is it?"

Schuldig stretched luxuriously, slipping out of Omi in the process, and kissed him. "Not exactly sure. But since the empathy is part of your being, not being able to use it could disassociate you because your body feels incomplete." He waved it off. "Just a thought, and not even a very well founded one..."

They kissed again for long minutes. 

"You okay? "Schuldig felt compelled to ask, eventually.

Omi smacked his lips, tasting Schuldig on them, and seriously considered the question. Then he smiled. "I'm okay." And, in that moment, he really was.

*

They dozed for a while after that, and when Omi came awake, they were already halfway to their next round. Omi giggled when Schuldig's cock poked him as their bodies instinctively moved in joint rhythm against each other.  
He pushed Schuldig onto his back, straddled him, and did what every other healthy, red-blooded young man with a penchant for penetration would do.

This time, their abilities didn't drown them as they had before. The men were still in tune, but their bodies set the music, not the heady tide of minds.

Where before, everything had been an intoxicating and roaring jumble, this time, it felt like a cleansing spring rushing through him. And not just him; Schuldig's mind was like a crystal clearing his own.  
He arched his back as he came; not in an overwhelming surge, but with a joyous giggle, taking Schuldig with him.

He stayed in his position, catching his breath, Schuldig still seated deeply within him.  
"Oh, you're good at this," he said, leaning against Schuldig's thighs which had been propped up for just that purpose. Omi grinned down at his bed mate.

"Likewise," Schuldig returned the compliment.

Omi relaxed in his human seat, enjoying the feeling of Schuldig's softening prick inside of him. Neither felt any need to change their position just now.  
"I think this was... more my style than earlier..." He didn't really know how to put it. His first time with another man inside him, feeling so much more fulfilling than with his toys, had been... almost too much. What their minds and bodies had done with them, had let them share and experience... it had been amazing, but...

"The first time certainly wasn't everyday fucking," Schuldig translated his thoughts.

Omi hummed in agreement, looking in fascination at the mess he had left on Schuldig's stomach. "I could certainly go with this type of fucking every day," was what he said instead with a mischievous little glint in his eyes.

"Not counting the one in the pool, are you?"

Omi snickered. He did, actually, but even just being in a bed gave their coupling a lot more intent.  
"I could go with some more of that, too."

Schuldig smirked. "And I think I'd like to see those lovely lips of yours at work..."

Omi sent that smirk right back with an overt look to Schuldig's own lips. "Likewise."

Their naughty musings were interrupted by an insistent beeping, and Schuldig groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Wakeup call?" Omi asked.

"I may have forgotten to call in to Kritiker yesterday..."

Omi snorted. "Naughty," he said and ran teasing fingers up and down Schuldig's thighs.

"Does anyone actually buy your innocent little Omittchi shtick?"

Omi laughed a bit. "It's mostly true..."

"Uh-huh," Schuldig commented unconvinced.

Omi thought that he probably wasn't very innocent when killing people, and had anyone else seen him right now, he certainly didn't look particularly innocent, either. Still...  
Some part of him _felt_ like it was untouched by the world.

"Yeah, I guess you are a bit," Schuldig allowed. "If you weren't, you wouldn't have had your little crisis."

A crisis that wasn't over yet, even if it was pushed behind the side-lines for now. Omi smiled regardless, and it was a true smile.  
"I didn't think innocence was quite your thing," Omi said, voicing what he had been wondering about for a bit. He could feel Schuldig's interest in him sexually, but he didn't really understand where it had come from. He'd never thought that the likes of him would be Schuldig's type.

"I didn't think guilt was yours," Schuldig replied, dryly.

Omi's lips quirked ruefully. "I guess neither of us is just the one thing, then."

"No," Schuldig said. "We're not." With that final statement, he smacked Omi's behind and urged him to get off him.  
"Time for that call, then, Liebling."

Omi moved, careful not to jostle Schuldig's cock and somehow make a mess with the condom, and then stood next to the bed, his muscles reminding him that he'd had some pleasant exercise...  
"Think I can get out of it?" he asked, as he stood there unselfconsciously. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with work. At all, really.

"Yeah, probably," Schuldig said and grunted as he rolled out of bed. "I was supposed to report back. There was no mention of you having to do the same. You're on mandatory leave, after all."

Omi was in the process of putting on his shorts again when a thought occurred to him.  
"Are you going to tell them...?"

"That I fucked you silly? Hell, no. Or we'd have the other three Weiß beating down our door within a day."

Omi snorted. "I don't think I'm ready for that." He wasn't sure which _that_ he was referring to. But he wasn't ready to face his friends, just now, much as he loved them. There were too many things he wanted to come to terms with, and sleeping with Schuldig wasn't even really on that list. The others would put it on that list, Omi knew.  
No, he needed some more time for himself. And now that he had it, he slowly managed to appreciate it.  
"I'm going to make us something to eat. I'm starving." He moved a few steps and pulled a face. "Bathroom first, though." The lube made his ass all sticky.

Schuldig just grinned at him. "So not apologising for that."

Omi laughed and went to get cleaned up. When he ventured to the kitchen, he took the long way around outside. He could hear Schuldig talking in the living room, again, like he had when Omi had arrived. The camera was probably turned on, and Omi didn't want to be roped into the call.

He didn't listen to what they were talking about, but from the general sounds of it, Schuldig wasn't particularly enthusiastic in answering Manx' questions. The discovery of his empathy did come up, though.

"Omi!" Schuldig unfortunately called after a while, at least sounding like he didn't actually want to drag Omi into this.

"What?" He called back, not minding one bit that he probably sounded like a brat, since he suddenly remembered that Manx had sent him here with no warning whatsoever and now apparently expected both him and Schuldig to jump through her hoops. 

Schuldig must have picked up on that thought, because he sounded amused when he yelled back.  
"They need a proof of life or something. They're afraid I've eaten you."

Omi threw down his ladle and stomped into the living room, ranting. "Well, they should have thought of that before hiring Schwarz and then sending me here with one of them!" he concluded as he came to a standstill behind Schuldig with crossed arms. Manx looked a bit flustered. Good.  
"Well?" he demanded. "I'm here."

Manx straightened. "Mastermind tells me you are making progress?"

"For fuck's sake," Schuldig complained under his breath, presumably because of the use of his old code name.

Omi remained distinctly unimpressed, and he had no reason not to show it.  
"You made Schu my therapist. If you don't trust his verdict, then why send us here in the first place?"

Manx looked taken aback. "Omi... I'm just... worried."

Omi's expression softened, though he was still angry. Worrying about someone didn't give you the right to do what you thought was best without asking first.  
"I'm beginning to enjoy my holiday, which I guess is a good sign."

"And I'm claiming the whole two months," Schuldig stated. "Not only do you have an assassin with a mountain of issues on your hands but also an untrained empath who needs some work."

Omi grinned at him. "And you want your holiday."

"And I want my holiday."

Manx was visibly startled by (and suspicious of) the sudden change in the mood that did not include her. It was obvious that she was well aware what she had subjected Omi to and had not expected the young man to acclimatise to the situation without further arguments and lots of convincing on her part.  
"That will have to be determined."

Schuldig stared her down. "Omi, get back to your holiday."

Omi nodded slowly. "Alright." Then he inclined his head in the barest hint of etiquette. "Bye, Manx."  
In his peripheral vision, he could see Manx drawing in a breath to protest, but Schuldig silenced her with another look.

Omi stayed well out of sight in the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and suddenly feeling tired. Or perhaps simply deflated. He did listen to what they were discussing, now, however.

"I'm not sure I like your influence on him," Manx said with a barely concealed accusatory tone.

"And I'm not sure I like what you're implying," Schuldig shot back, coldly.

Manx paused, then huffed. "Well, he seems much better. I don't see why he should be with you for longer than necessary..."

" _I_ will determine what is necessary. He's feeling better, but issues like his don't go away because of a change of scenery and a nice view! And I was serious when I said he needs training. You can't send an untrained empath out to kill people, for fuck's sake! And his talent keeps getting stronger in proximity to a telepath. You're damn lucky we found out about that now instead of during a mission."

"Be that as it may, that does not explain his sudden hostility towards me."

Schuldig chuckled, darkly. "Can't blame that one on me, sweetheart. _You_ betrayed him by sending him here with no warning."

Manx couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You seem to be getting along well enough."

"And you didn't expect that to be the case," fired back with no hesitation. "Betrayal is betrayal. No matter the outcome." Schuldig leaned back in his seat. "You made your bed, you can damn well lie in it. He'll forgive you, with time. He's that sort of guy." The implied, _'Very unlike me,'_ went unsaid.

Again, there was silence. "I still expect that you call in as scheduled," she let him know firmly.

"Fine. But Omi won't be in those calls unless he asks for it."

"If you hurt him-"

"I'm not the one who hurt him, this time."

" _This time_."

Omi wished he could see Manx' expression. As it was, he could only see Schuldig smirk and shrug.

"Like I said. He's a very forgiving young man."

"You still have to prove that you deserve it."

Schuldig laughed, unpleasantly. "Right. Before I end this unfortunate call, let me remind you which one of us asked the other for help, because it sure as hell wasn't me."

"Please."

Omi actually flinched at the pleading tone. He couldn't remember Manx ever sounding like this. Schuldig's sarcastic anger faded a bit, but his answer was still steely.

"I told you that he would be in good hands, and whatever else you may think of me, I don't lie."

On that note, they ended the call, and Schuldig groaned and sunk deeper into his seat.

"It's off," he informed Omi who slowly came back into the room.

"I know," Omi said, softly, remembering the call on his first day, again. "I never thanked you," he mused, "for cutting the connection the last time."

Schuldig shrugged and stared through the blank screen, never looking up. "She was very resistant to the signals you were sending out."

Omi snorted. "That's one way of putting it."

Now, Schuldig leaned his head against the backrest and grinned up at Omi. "I suppose she means well. If you go for that kind of thing, which you do."

Omi's little laugh was something between a huff and a giggle, and then he didn't see a reason to not lean down and steal a kiss. Teasingly slipping in his tongue felt natural. It tasted so good… He sighed with a parting nip.  
"I'm finishing lunch," he said, allowing himself to drown a bit in the hypnotic eyes so close to his.

"You do that. We could head over to the volcano after."

Omi grinned. He'd read about the volcano.  
"No more training today?"

Schuldig gave him one of his scrutinising looks. "Your mind has been working on your shields, since I showed them to you. I guess once you were aware of what was going on with your empathy, their development could no longer be blocked."

Omi blinked and... looked inwards... and... "Huh."

Schuldig smirked. "I think we can leave it at that, today. You'd only get... distracted, anyway."

"Maybe." Omi didn't mind one bit. Schuldig hadn't been any less distracted. Still... "More training tomorrow?"

Schuldig's expression did something unfamiliar. Perhaps softness, perhaps pride. Perhaps something like joy that there was another person who was curious about their kinds of talents with the open mind of someone untouched by the malicious exploitation that often came with it. An untainted, kindred spirit.  
It was a nice smile. Surprisingly, it suited him.  
"Look who got curious about his new ability..."

Omi returned the smile. No judgement. Just the blip of a shared moment.

He went to finish lunch.

*

Omi turned out to be an incredibly hungry student. Not that Schuldig was surprised; Omi had always been determined to a fault.

They had gone to see the volcano, and since there weren't too many tourists to crowd their mental shields (especially Omi's untrained ones), they even indulged in a mud bath. Schuldig didn't think he'd ever experienced anything quite so relaxing in his life.

Omi had been quietly enjoying the sensations on his skin, but all day, he had also been poking and testing his shields and what he could do with what lay beneath them.

His eagerness was endearing and new. Omi didn't want to learn with any particular goal in mind, he was simply endlessly curious.

Right now, Omi was sitting on a chair by the pool, looking out at the ocean. His mind wasn't on what he was seeing, however.

Grinning, Schuldig approached him and finally sat in the chair next to him.

Omi startled and looked up, and then smiled with an embarrassed little blush.  
"I can't seem to leave it be..."

"That's fine. It's refreshing to see you discover something like that without prejudice."

Omi sent him a searching look. "I guess you didn't enjoy discovering your gift, then?" he said after a long, tense moment of Schuldig wishing he'd have shut up.

Schuldig avoided Omi's eyes and huffed, softly. "You _would_ call it a gift..."

Omi was quiet again. "It was to me." He wasn't talking about his own talent, but Schuldig's. That much was obvious. His own was probably still too much of an abstract concept.

"This time," Schuldig couldn't but point out.

Omi, unexpectedly, snickered. "Yeah. You were a major asshole before."

Schuldig declined to argue and just smirked at him. It was hard not to in the face of Omi's cheeky nonchalance.  
"You think I'm different now?" he challenged.

"Hm," Omi hummed, pondering the question. "I think it's probably more to do with you viewing me differently..." Then he seemed to realise that there was more to it, and he stretched his empathy towards Schuldig, like a polite knock on the door.

Schuldig, for reasons he didn't really understand and didn't wish to analyse too closely, allowed it.

Omi studied him. "You're less... on the edge than you used to be," was his verdict.

"You're not wrong."

"I guess it was a good thing that you got rid of Esszett and that training centre?" Omi guessed.

"Yes," Schuldig replied with an air of finality.

Omi nodded, letting it drop.

"I'm still an asshole, though," Schuldig clarified, making Omi laugh.

"Maybe... I don't mind so much anymore."

And maybe, though Schuldig didn't even let the thought form completely, maybe he wasn't all that bad, anymore. He still didn't give half a shit about morals or compassion, and his sadistic streak reared its head regularly. But he was no longer under anyone's thumb, and the urge to lash out was accordingly more focused and less volatile. Crawford had got them out of their collars and leashes, and Schuldig had dared to allow himself the luxury of growing into himself.  
He still sincerely doubted that he'd ever actually like himself, though.

"We'll see how that holds up when we're back at work," Schuldig finally said.

Omi shrugged, unconcerned. "I think it'll depend on how I see myself when that happens. If I can deal with myself, I can deal with you."

"That's fucked up, but probably true for you." 

Omi grinned. "Being fucked up is fine, I just don't want to be numb, anymore."

"And you're less of that with every hour."

Omi stood up. "Thanks to those parlour tricks of yours." He didn't dwell on that, as he obviously had something else in mind. "Let's go out for dinner, fuck the night away, and have some snorkelling with the training tomorrow. I loved that."

Schuldig considered the sun lighting up Omi's hair and smiled, thinking that Omi was on his way to fit into the landscape... It was only a matter of time.  
"Sounds like a plan."

 

Their dinner out was a nice conclusion of a mostly relaxing day, and when they drove back to the house, a thunderstorm started brewing and was soon accompanied by a massive downpour.

Schuldig felt a lightness flood him that he hadn't believed he was still capable of experiencing. A large part of it was due to Omi's empathy leaking outwards, his fledgling shields mellowed by the progressing evening. And Omi's capacity for joy that Schuldig had always either resented or admired or both was en par with the lightning over the wild ocean.

Omi's eyes lightened up with the flashes, his smile widening like his chest. Schuldig could sense the emotions and sensations course through the young man, for the moment drowning even the vaguest of memories of the depression. The thunder was roaring too loudly, and the lightning was flashing too brightly for the grey dust on Omi's heart to dampen anything, anymore. And sharing the experience instinctively and readily was just in Omi's nature, Schuldig supposed. (Even when very young, Schuldig had always been more restrained with his ability, and given his usually very un-restrained personality, that probably said more about him that he was willing to examine.) He also greedily wanted more of Omi's radiating personality. He wanted to latch onto it and soak it up, let it flow through him and fuel his own extra-sensory perception.

When a gasp and a giggle escaped Omi at a particularly impressive web of lightning, Schuldig couldn't help but think that the brightest spirits would always suffer the most from dulling grey.  
He quirked a rueful smile at the thought. It was no wonder he'd gone after Omi with such single-minded malicious intent in the past if the young man could elicit such reactions in him.  
But Schuldig could relate to being averse to grey. He would take pain, suffering, and hatred before apathy. In this, they were very much alike, though thinking of Omi suffering didn't sit as well with him as it used to...

They arrived at the house, and walking from the car to the front door had them soaked to the bone.

Omi laughed from the heart as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced, and the first thing he did was head to the open terrace doors and stand as close to the rain as he could without actually standing in it.

"I love rain," Omi said, drinking it in with all his senses.

Schuldig stepped up next to him. "I can see that."

Omi turned his head to grin at him. "You must think I'm so silly." He fully believed in his words, too, but he didn't seem to mind very much.

Schuldig took in Omi's appearance – from the wet hair to the flushed cheeks, the bright eyes and smile – and couldn't hold back an answering quirk of lips.  
"I really don't."

Omi looked a little dubious but then accepted the unexpected sort-of praise.

Schuldig felt such a surge of pure _want_ rise from his gut, he pulled Omi's wet body close and _devoured_ him, Omi immediately responding to the kiss with equal fervour.

In no need for words, they ended up in jumble on the wet terrace floor, their heated bodies entwined and exposed hurriedly.

The weather and their love-making climaxed and calmed together, and they eventually lay mellow and breathing heavily in the softening spray of the rain, their lips never far from each other.

It was getting a bit cool for comfort, soon, however.  
"Much as I respect your appreciation of the weather in these parts, my back is killing me."

Omi chortled cheerfully and stole another sweet and wet kiss.  
"So let's head to bed, then."

They stood, picked up their wayward clothes, and headed to bed, the sky already clearing, again.

*

Omi got used to this way of living frighteningly easily. His training was progressing nicely (just as his depression was regressing); the house, his companion, and their routine felt increasingly natural; he enjoyed everything the island had to offer to the fullest... and yet the thought of returning to their lives and work in Tokyo had stopped appearing daunting or overwhelming to him a while ago.

The two weeks they had left of this holiday would now actually be... mostly a holiday.

Of course, that was when the call came.

Schuldig had mostly adhered to Manx' insistence to call regularly, and whenever he forgot, they'd get that annoying, beeping reminder. So, Omi knew what that sounded like. The ringing that startled them out of their sleep in the wee hours of the morning was different, and Schuldig's expression changed to something Omi hadn't really seen in their time together on this island and far from reality. It wasn't difficult to deduce the reason for it...  
"Crawford?"

Schuldig was already wide awake with a familiar professional glint in his eyes and looked for his ringing phone in the bedside table drawer.  
"Yes," he confirmed to Omi and then picked up. "What?" Professional or not, he still sounded grumpy.  
He listened for a moment, his face turning more and more sour by the second, and then he flopped back onto the bed, again. "And when will they get here?" he asked with a resigned sigh.

Omi visibly flinched. Oh dear...

Schuldig shared the look with Omi. "Six hours..." he repeated. "Anything I should worry about? The three of them won't storm in here, swords blazing?"

Something occurred to Omi that he really should have thought of, earlier. "They didn't know you would be here, either?"

"They just found out, apparently."

Omi shifted. "They don't know..." he made a vague gesture between them, "... do they?" He could hear Crawford chuckle before answering Omi's question to Schuldig, which Omi unfortunately couldn't understand.

Schuldig minutely shook his head to ease Omi's worries. "Yeah, fine. I'll call you one of these days." He turned off the phone.  
"Well. That should get interesting," he declared, deadpan.

Omi was still a bit shocked. "Uh... So, what? They were worried when they found out you're here with me? That's it?"

Schuldig rubbed his face. "Apparently. Oh, and Brad seems to think they'll stay here for the remaining two weeks."

Omi was too stunned to know what he thought about that. He really did love his friends, and he kind of looked forward to seeing them again, sharing this holiday with them, but...

"No more naked lazing about the house all day," Schuldig bemoaned.

Omi snorted. They really hadn't worn much (or anything at all) while at the house.  
"That is a shame," he agreed readily. "But a consequence I can deal with. I'm still trying to figure out what else will happen with them around."  
He should have thought about that, sooner. Should have thought about what would happen when they got back home... what would happen between him and Schuldig. Would they still sleep with each other, or was this strictly a holiday thing? And in case of the former, would he tell the others? _What_ would he tell them?

"Excellent questions," Schuldig threw into Omi's monologue. "As for myself, I never even considered not sleeping with you when we got back, and I was looking forward to working off my usual post-mission high with you between the sheets."

Omi raised an eyebrow at Schuldig's decidedly disquieting declaration. "It says something worrying about me that I'm kind of looking forward to that, too."

Schuldig smirked, entirely unsurprised. But then, they _had_ of course been talking about both their views on work... and Omi had realised more and more that the nature of said work truly wasn't what had bothered him so much. _That_ fact might have bothered him, had he not spent all his time around the mind of someone who literally could not care less. And that didn't even take into account that they had also spent quite a lot of that time in bed.

"And how do you feel about the change in our holiday plans?" Schuldig asked.

Omi propped his chin on a hand and looked down at his lover. "Just..." He pulled a face. "They're worried. Don't go like a bull at the gate, please." The comment made Schuldig laugh, so Omi continued the thought. "Since I fully intend to enjoy this trip, including having sex with you, I'm going to tell them, but, please... let me do it?" He grinned, ruefully, fully aware that things probably wouldn't go quite so smoothly, no matter who said what and when.

Schuldig gasped, histrionically, holding a hand to his chest. "I am appalled that you would think so little of me!"

Omi snickered and leaned down for a kiss. "Be nice. They're my family, and I love them."

"I'm actually getting paid to be nice, but I won't take shit, not even from the in-laws." He added that last part in total seriousness.

"And I wouldn't expect you to," Omi replied, just as seriously. "And I expect better of them than to lash out." He pulled a moue. "At least not once they stop to think. Two out of the three kind of have a short fuse."

Schuldig nodded slowly, thoughtfully, his eyes hard. "Word of the wise... keep your shields tight and in place. When they find out things they'd rather not know, you won't like what they're projecting."

Omi didn't want to think about how they might be angry or disappointed in him for not only tolerating Schuldig's presence but enjoying it to a, err, graphic extent, but humans were emotional beings who couldn't usually bury initial reactions. Schuldig had told him early on to never take such reactions at face value or too personal. Knee-jerk reactions were just that, and they would often change when more information was available or the person feeling that way had a chance to calm down.

"Do you think it's going to be bad?" he couldn't help but ask, feeling vulnerable.

Schuldig considered that. "Nah. Unpleasant, most likely, but they're too fond of you to not pull themselves together, again, soon. For your sake, anyway." He ran teasing fingers up and down Omi's side. "And from what Manx told me, the merge of the teams has been going as smoothly as it was ever going to get."

"Good, because I'm going to use that in the arguments I'm not looking forward to having..."

"Not sure what I should trust more. The worry or the impishness in your eyes." Schuldig quirked a smirk.

"I'm worried, and it's not going to be a walk in the park, talking to the others."

"But?"

"But I don't mind shaking them up a bit."

Schuldig snorted. "I'll remind you of that when you'll undoubtedly get frustrated."

Omi laughed a bit (impishly and worriedly). "Please do."

Schuldig pulled him down and into a deep kiss. "Let's just wake up properly, first, shall we?"

Who was Omi to disagree?


	2. Life in Colours

So, this was what arriving in paradise felt like, Youji thought to himself, dragging his suitcase with him over the tarmac. It hopefully wouldn't get any worse than _flying_ to paradise, since Ken and Ran had both driven him to madness in their own, unique ways. One quick look at his companions showed him that they were still very much in the same mind-set.

Ken was about to be driven out of his skin from sheer nervousness, and Ran was obviously sharpening his katana in his mind or doing something that demanded equal concentration (and frowning).

As for himself, it wasn't like he wasn't worried, but their monochromatic cooperation hadn't gone all that badly (so far), all things considered, and he just didn't think that Omi was in any immediate danger, even if Schuldig was the least trustworthy person he has ever laid eyes on.

The bare-bones summary Manx had given them before they could jump on the next train to the airport hadn't included much, but, apparently, their youngest was some sort of empath. Not that Youji was surprised by that. Omi had always been strongly affected by the moods of the people around him, trying to keep everyone happy as a result... But that talent had been discovered while Omi was on his holiday; it was not the reason he had been sent in the first place, and Manx had been even more tight-lipped about that part.

Youji had his own theories. Omi hadn't been doing well, that much had been obvious to all three of them. When it came to the reason for it, they didn't quite agree, though.  
Youji wasn't sure if the most obvious reason was the right one... Ken had been worried that Omi might want to leave the team and their work behind him, while Ran had remained suspiciously silent. Youji didn't think it was that, but then again, none of them had been trained to be a killer since they were twelve, so they didn't really have the necessary insight into Omi's motivation.

His musings were interrupted by the driver who was waiting for them.  
"Welcome to paradise!" he greeted them, and Youji smiled back.

The driver helped them with their luggage, and then narrated the view they were passing during the drive all the way to a... villa. _House_ didn't really cut it...  
Again, he helped getting everything out of the car and suddenly widely smiled past the three of them.

"Omi!" he greeted the young man waiting by the front door, and Omi grinned back.

"Hello, Louis."

"I brought your friends," Louis stated with a wave of the hand towards the new arrivals, before walking right up to Omi and complementing his greeting with a hug. "They look as gloomy as you did when you got here." This was followed by a cheerful laugh.

Omi's eyes flickered to them, and his grin melted into a laugh, too, before he nodded, mock-seriously. "I think I was off worse than them, though."

"Ah... The island and your other friend brought that fire back to your eyes, eh?"

Omi smirked. "He does that, yes."

Youji watched the exchange between the men, keeping a close eye on Omi and his expressions. To his surprise, Omi's cheerful mood seemed genuine, and he accepted the driver's invitation to drop by, again, one of these days.

Omi had always been hesitant when it came to trusting strangers. He was polite and smiled, but he didn't accept offers without a backdoor kept open.  
Then there was the look in Omi's eyes... The cheer and what Louis had dubbed as _'fire'_ were definitely there, but Youji could also detect the crispness of a steel trap.

As Omi waved Louis goodbye, Ken finally got out of his stupor and rushed to pull Omi into a hug who accepted it with a warm laugh.

"Hello, Ken."

"So good to see you," Ken murmured, sounding every bit as desperate as he looked.

Omi smiled over his shoulders at the other two.  
"Good to see you guys, too."

Ran still wasn't making a move, so Youji joined the other two and ruffled Omi's hair.  
"Hey, Omittchi. Nice digs." He nodded at the house.

Omi laughed again. "You haven't seen anything, yet." He gently ended the hug with Ken without pushing him away. "Come on, come inside." He gestured to the door and went ahead.

Now, Ran moved. "Is he here?"

Omi rolled his eyes, but his mood didn't appear to be dampened by the remark, one way or another. "Of course he's here. He's been here all along."  
He gestured again to follow him and took the lead.

And Schuldig indeed was inside. He was leaning against the side of the stairs leading upstairs with his arms crossed, wearing shorts and an open shirt. Youji noticed that the missing bandana made his face look completely different, as did the healthy tan. If he hadn't known the man, he would have wrongly thought of him as disarming. Which, of course, was a dangerous misconception.

"The rooms are upstairs," Omi stated, turning around to face them again. "Or, well there's rooms on every floor, actually, so you can take your pick. Once you're settled, we still need to go grocery shopping. We were only told you were coming a few hours ago."

Youji sighed. Ken was vibrating on the spot, and Ran was glaring at Schuldig, and it seemed it was up to him to get both off the single-minded track and make them think clearly again, because this was becoming comically silly.  
"Kid..." he started, taking two steps towards Omi. "Before we do anything else, we are going to sit down and talk, because Ken is about to die from a nervous breakdown, and Ran is about to kill from one." (Well, at least Ran was glaring at _him_ now.)

Omi looked a bit resigned, but he smiled ruefully at him.

But Youji wasn't done and caught Schuldig's eyes, pointing at him. "And you're joining us."

Schuldig took great care to appear thoroughly unimpressed and huffed. "Yeah, we were expecting you to get here all freaked out." He tilted his head to the side where there was a sofa and upon closer inspection several inviting items on the coffee table.  
"There's iced tea and some pastries." He smirked. "Omi thought buttering you up might help."  
He pushed himself off the stairs he was resting against and nonchalantly strolled towards the sofa.

Youji rolled his eyes at Schuldig's back. The German may have been a casual bastard, but at least half of that attitude was pure posturing. Youji could relate and followed him, watching Omi do the same out of the corner of his eye. He noticed the ease with which Omi moved to follow and then sit next to Schuldig. Omi didn't appear aware of the familiarity he conveyed, but his whole body screamed comfort.

Youji mentally shook himself. Omi wasn't doing anything... odd, after all, and it wasn't like they were sitting particularly close. Omi was just a friendly person by nature, and, given enough time, he acclimatised to new additions, easily enough.

Still... No. No, he was just being silly. Of course they would have become attuned to each other, after seven weeks on their own. And Omi's soft bare hint of a smile surely didn't mean anything.  
He searched Ken and Ran's eyes, but neither seemed to notice any subtleties to the mood. Ken worriedly watched Omi, trying his best to not constantly reach out and touch to know he's truly there and alright. Ran – though much more reserved – showed signs of worry, but, as was his nature, he thought more of points of attack, every muscle tense.

When they all sat, Youji thought that the role of the mediator would fall to him.

"We're sorry," Ken blurted out, startling all of them, but most of all Omi. "We're sorry that we didn't see that you needed help."

Omi stared at him, wide-eyed. "Ken..."

"We failed you."

Omi smiled at him. "No, you didn't."

To everyone's surprise, Ran commented on that, next. "Yes, we did," he said solemnly, for the moment visibly trying not to acknowledge the man in their midst who would always stay an interloper in his mind. They had come because they cared, hadn't they. "We have all noticed that you were perhaps not your usual, cheerful self. None of us thought to offer our support, and you should be able to count on your team. We _have_ failed you."

"Guys, I... _I_ didn't know that I needed help until I got here." He looked at all of them in turn. "And it was a good thing I came here, because I didn't just need help, I needed training, and Schu is the only one who could give it to me."

"Schu?" Ken sounded so shocked that Youji couldn't help but grin a bit. The man in question just looked unbearably smug.

Omi snickered. "Well, I'd rather call him that than embarrass myself every time I try to pronounce the full thing." He smirked at Schuldig, and Schuldig responded to the look as if they either shared an inside joke or literally spoke to each other unheard. But whatever it was, it was just between them.

Youji stared at the matching smiles of the two with bemusement. "You two really clicked here, didn't you?" he asked without really thinking about it. _Had_ he thought about it, he would have reminded himself of all the reasons why _'clicking'_ between Omi and Schuldig of all people was a terrible idea or several.

Omi shrugged, and Youji tried not to think about why that little smile looked so secretive, either.  
"Well... there was no one else here, and it turned out we have a thing or two in common."

"Your ability," Youji guessed.

"There were other things, too, and I didn't expect that."

Youji raised an eyebrow, and he was too distracted with trying to figure out other aspects the unlikely pair could have in common to notice Ken and Ran's reaction.

Schuldig laughed. " _I_ didn't expect that."

"What could you two possibly have in common?" Ken blurted out, sounding kind of indignant (probably on Omi's behalf).

"We kill people for a living and are incredibly attractive," Schuldig shot back, deadpan.

Youji rolled his eyes. "Omi... Could we...?" 

Omi turned his head from where he'd looked at Schuldig, still grinning a bit. The same kind of smile. Again. 

Youji licked his lips, slowly becoming nervous, himself. "You've been better, though, yes? Coming here helped?" He really needed an answer to that question, because his observations freaked him out a bit more with every passing minute.

Omi now had all his team mates' attention. "I'm better, and I'll continue to work on it," he said, firmly and determinedly.

"He helped, then?" Ken pressed.

Omi sighed. "Yes, he helped. You know when you get into one of those funks? Where you can't stop a loop of thoughts?" He paused, finding comprehension in three faces, which was hardly surprising. They all had their pasts... "Schu can just stop it. When my mind won't let me sleep, he can help. When certain images cause flashbacks, he can untie them from the memories, and the next time I see them, nothing happens." He breathed out, unable to quite express how much Schuldig had helped him.  
Then he shared a look with the German and quirked a smile. "He calls them parlour tricks and never tires of reminding me that I still have to do the hard work." The smile faded and honesty was all Youji could read in his face, and the way Omi had to almost force his eyes to look away from the man next to him made Youji sigh quietly.

"Yes, he helped me," Omi repeated, softly, returning Ken's wide-eyed and pleading stare with a solemn one of his own. The words audibly carried so much weight...

"Well, shit," Youji said, resigned. "You slept with him."  
He could and probably should have waited with blurting that out. Should have spoken to Omi about it, first. Should have...  
He was certain that time stopped for a second, and it didn't surprise him when Schuldig was the one to start it again.

"In my defence, we always wore clothes when we went out."

That freed Omi from his own momentary freeze, and he threw a throw pillow at Schuldig who merely caught it and snickered.  
"You're an idiot," Omi said but couldn't stop grinning, anyway.

Schuldig's mischievous expression turned sharp for a moment. "Shields up."

Omi breathed deeply and he nodded. "They're up."

"Before you completely freak out," Schuldig addressed the newcomers, "do keep in mind that he's a fledgling empath who may be quite good at shielding but is still learning, so tone it down."

Youji could see the thunder in Ken's eyes even before it erupted.

"What did you _do_ to him?!" he yelled at Schuldig who remained entirely unimpressed.

Schuldig smiled coldly, then turned to look at Omi. "I win," he said, sardonically.

"I never took that bet. I knew they would blame you."

Schuldig chuckled. "Which is entirely unfair," he complained, playfully and with only a hint of bitterness shimmering through. " _You_ were the one who jumped _me_ , after all."

And given Omi's expression, Youji had to come to the conclusion that Omi actually _had_ been the initiator, and that realisation was quite something to stomach and/or process.  
That didn't hold Ken back, and god only knew what went on in Ran's head.

"Then you _made_ him do it!" Ken insisted, making Schuldig's amused expression turn cold in a second.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Hidaka," he said, dangerously softly. "I do not rape. You can accuse me of whatever the fuck you like, but not that." His eyes never left Ken's. "Got me?"

The unwavering coldness of that claim gave Ken pause and made Ran study the German with narrowed eyes. Youji for himself tried to think of the reasons why this was the one sin Schuldig would not make himself guilty of... At least one answer seemed quite obvious, and he quickly pushed the thought back before it would be caught.

"Schu can make people do what he likes," Omi said, surreptitiously laying his hand on Schuldig's which was clenched into a fist on the sofa, "but he can't make them _want_ it." He straightened a bit in his seat, bracing himself. "I assure you that I want it."

"Omi..."

"No," Omi didn't let Ken continue that thought and interrupted him kindly but firmly. "I like him and I like sleeping with him. That isn't up for debate. My mental health can be discussed, my empathy, and the team dynamic. Not that. It's mine."

Schuldig watched him with a tiny glint of what might have been pride, but Youji couldn't be sure because it was gone as soon as he saw it. When Schuldig turned his hand that was still under Omi's to entwine their fingers (the pride now having turned into smugness, once more), Omi took the invitation and sighed in relief.

Omi briefly paused, his fingers tightening their hold for a second, and then he once more became the calculating Weiß tactician that he was.

"My mental health has improved; Schu assures me that my progress with the empathy is above expectations; and I've been told that the team dynamic hasn't suffered overtly because of the merger. I don't see how having a sexual relationship with someone _on my own team_ is a problem." His voice turned a bit bitter as he continued, "It wasn't considered to be a problem to send me here without warning me, either. It's not my fault he was nice to me, and, frankly, I trusted him from the moment he cut the connection to Manx on our first day here when he was the only one to realise that I just couldn't deal with her tactical explanations of why she didn't tell me who would be here with me, anymore. She certainly didn't think anything was amiss."  
He let go of Schuldig's hand and crossed his arms, staring at the table. "And if you dare to suggest I slept with him to get back at Manx, or because I was vulnerable or whatever, I'll use you for target practice."

Ken looked at him in both empathy and desperation. "Omi, I still don't understand..."

"I think I'm beginning to understand at least some of it," Youji said, calmly studying Omi and Schuldig alike, and Omi raised his downturned head, hopefully. "He understands you without words," he told Omi, "and I guess it's hard to put into words what it's like to be trained as an assassin from childhood." Omi didn't say anything, but his eyes reflected comprehension. There were probably other things; things that Youji didn't want to think about Omi having them in common with Schuldig, but this one, at least, he could understand. He would just have to take it from there. Doing otherwise meant ignoring that glint of hope in Omi's eyes, and he really didn't have that in him.  
"And that isn't even taking the..." Youji wriggled his fingers, "... supernatural abilities into account."

Ran, stubbornly unreadable, crossed his arms as well. "So you're okay with this?" he demanded to know of Youji.

Youji huffed. "No. I think he's an asshole," he said, gesturing at Schuldig, making the man in question smirk. "But Omi's right. This isn't a discussion matter. It is what it is. His decision." He leaned forward to get one of the filled pastries. "And this is still better than the horror scenarios you two came up with on the way here," he concluded, taking a bite.

Ken went from shocked to something between confused and grumpy. "Different kind of horror."

Schuldig made an amused little sound and reached for one of the pastries himself. Omi shot him a sharp look that he returned and held for a few seconds. Youji thought that Schuldig was going to say something and then decided not to. The two probably left them out of a short, mental conversation...

"Come on, Ken," Youji said. "You wanted to make sure his stay here didn't make it worse." If he remembered correctly, Ken had said something about Schuldig probably having chained Omi in the basement or something... "I mean, look at him. Does he look unhappy to you?"

Ken studied Omi for a long, uncomfortable moment. "No," he had to admit, grudgingly, earning himself a grateful smile from the target of his scrutiny.

Youji nodded, once, satisfied. "Ran?" he prompted.

"I'm not convinced yet that he wasn't manipulated." Then his expression unexpectedly softened, though near imperceptibly. "But I'll be watching," he allowed. "I'm not as presumptuous as to think I know your mind or what makes you happy, Omi. But you do understand why I'll be watching, don't you?"

"Yes." He shared a look with Schuldig and snorted a giggle. "I know I would be." Schuldig winked at him and made him giggle again, then he cleared his throat, firmly preparing to change the topic.  
"Anyway, now that this is out of the way, we really should go grocery shopping before it gets any later."

"I'll go with you," Youji said, earning himself four stares. "What?" he wanted to know and first looked at Ken and Ran. "You two would freak out again if Omi went alone with Schuldig-" he blinked. "You know what, I'm going to go with _'Schu'_ , as well, no offence."

"None taken."

"If either of you goes with Omi, instead," he continued his explanation, "you'll bombard him with well-meant disapproval, which isn't going to help. And the car's only fit for two, so I'm taking Omi."

"Well, then," Schuldig said, standing decisively. "I'm not going to stay here and face the disapproval, well-meant or otherwise. And we all know it's not going to be well-meant if it's me."

Omi looked at him as he walked around the sofa. "Where are you going?"

"Beach." Schuldig took off his shirt and threw it over the back of the sofa. "Swimming or snorkelling or both." He tilted his head at Ken and Ran. "You two can either join me or not." He shrugged. "Your choice." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Omi stood, as well. "Don't forget your sunscreen, again."

"I'm looking for it," came the answer from the kitchen. "Where did you put it?"

"Uh..." Omi pivoted around, once. "Oh, right. Uh. Why don't you guys put your bags in whatever room you like, then we can get going?" When everyone reluctantly started moving, Omi headed outside to have a look and called to Schuldig: "I think it's by the pool. I'll get it."

After the initial moment of hesitation it took to get everyone going, Youji, Ken, and Ran then hurriedly went upstairs and didn't do much more than drop their luggage in the first available rooms before returning to the living room again.  
They could hear the voices float from the kitchen and slowed down, uncomfortably waiting by the sofa.

"Get your hair out of the way." That was clearly Omi.

"You dig my hair, don't even try to deny it."

"I'm not, but if you don't want it full of sunscreen, get it away from your back."

Youji rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We should... probably give them a minute," he said, only just loud enough for Ken and Ran to hear.

Ran laid a hand on Youji's arm. "You're going to talk to him, right?"

Youji nodded. "Mind you, I'm not going to interrogate him. I'm going to talk to him, and if it turns out that he's as happy with the situation as he appeared, earlier, I'm going to encourage him."

"And if he's not?"

Youji huffed a laugh. "You saw them together. Just sitting there. Do you really think it wasn't real?"

Ran held his stare and then sighed, his shoulders dropping.

Ken knew how to read Ran's expression easily enough, and though he wasn't as sure about Schuldig (and Omi with Schuldig), he came to the same conclusion.  
"You think they're for real." It wasn't a question.

Youji made an uncomfortable nodding/shrugging motion. "I don't know how serious they are, but they're for real. They definitely both want it." Then he raised his voice. "And they're currently kissing in the kitchen."

The first thing they could hear in reply to that was Omi's muffled, melodious giggle.

Youji had to smile. "Yeah. He's happy." This, he said more quietly again.

The two came out of the kitchen, Omi blushing and Schuldig looking thoroughly unrepentant.

Schuldig had a bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm off, so if you two want to keep an eye on my evil ass, you know where to find me," he told Ken and Ran. Demonstratively, he startled everyone (including Omi) with a brief kiss to his lover's lips.  
"Later, Liebling," he said, smirking, and was off.

Omi looked after him, gently pressing his lips together, as if he was trying to keep the kiss with him. He unconsciously ran his tongue over his lips before returning his attention to his team mates... especially Ran and Ken.  
"I can leave you here alone with him, right? You're going to be... okay?"

Youji chuckled. "You haven't been in Tokyo, the past few weeks, but the six of us have been... fine. Our Schwarz tolerance has increased to the point that nobody tried to kill anyone."

Ran huffed. "But I don't mind not having to deal with Crawford and his ego for two weeks."

Ken smirked. "I had to work with Nagi a lot," he suddenly felt like telling Omi, a small frown between his brows. "He's a grumpy little bugger, I guess, but we got along well enough. And he... speaks of _him_ ," he nodded towards where Schuldig had disappeared, "like he's... an annoying big brother or something." He shrugs a bit, as if he doesn't know what to do with that knowledge except to accept that it exists.

Omi nods, slowly. "Yeah... Schu thinks of Schwarz as his sort of family." His eyes grow distant. "It's odd. Thinking that those three are the same thing to Schu as you guys are to me."

Youji studied him intently. He supposed that, just as the other three Schwarz hadn't turned out quite so bad when you worked with them, Schuldig probably must have started to feel less than abominable to Omi...  
"And what is he to you?"

Omi shrugged, at loss for words.

"Sorry," Youji said, unexpectedly. "I even told the others just now that I wouldn't interrogate you. I guess I can't help myself, and I won't do it again, as long as whatever he is to you makes you happy."

Omi smiled, gratefully. "It feels good, having him around. His presence." He lightly tapped his temple.

Youji raised an eyebrow. "Just the mental presence?"

Omi blushed but had to grin. "The physical presence is quite nice, too," he admitted.

Youji chuckled, and threw an arm around Omi's shoulders. "Alright, kid. Let's go shopping."

Omi nodded. "And you two should really go swimming. It's beautiful out there." He smiled encouragingly at them, nodded once, and then they turned to leave.

"You think they'll actually go swimming?" Youji asked once they were out of hearing range.

Omi grinned crookedly at him. "I'm pretty sure they'll go after him. The sea might distract them enough to join him and accidentally have fun."

Youji laughed warmly. "You may be right, Omittchi. You may be right." He got into the passenger seat on the left, letting Omi take the wheel.

Omi navigated them out of the driveway and onto the road.  
"You really aren't going to give me the third degree?"

"What? Like... How did it happen? And when? And why? And what did he do?" He chuckled, propped his elbow on the open window and his temple against his closed fist, looking at Omi. "No, I won't." He read Omi's subtle expressions. The young man truly didn't want to be interrogated... However...  
"If you want to tell me about it, though, or just talk... I'll listen."

Omi considered that. "I think... I might like that."

Youji smiled. He had been right, then. It wasn't that Omi categorically didn't want to talk about it, which was a good sign, really. Being grilled for information that was only interesting from an outside perspective was a different matter, entirely.  
"Oh, and sorry for blurting it out, earlier. I should have talked to you first."

Omi snorted. "You should have." He didn't sound angry, though.

"It's just..." Youji felt he had to explain, "... it was becoming more obvious by the minute, and it kind of startled me." He frowned a bit. "I'm usually better at keeping secrets," he added ruefully. "Didn't mean to let that out on you." Well. It was an explanation. Not an excuse.

"Yeah, well. Be careful where you say such things, around here. Gay sex is still illegal, on this island."

"Seriously?"

Omi looked sour. "Yeah. I'm very, very tempted to hack the computer of one of the more vocal politicians and plant a profile of a gay dating site and some emails or something."

Youji smirked. "My understanding of radical politicians is that there's always at least one who already does what they lobby against." The smirk widened and he pointedly directed it at Omi. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend to find one?"

Omi spluttered and was at loss for words for several long seconds.

"Don't drive off the road," Youji remarked teasingly.

"I never call him that," Omi complained. "Not even in my own head." He paused and added a bit more quietly, "Even if he couldn't read my mind."

"What do you call him, then?"

"I call him Schu. That's his name."

Youji smiled encouragingly at him. "Tell me about Schu, then."  
He couldn't have missed the flash of light in Omi's eyes and the small smile. Damn...

"Well, he's," Omi paused to think, "kind of... inescapable, isn't he?"

That made Youji laugh. "In one way or another, yes. Can't argue with that."

Omi laughed with him. "I mean, you can't really ignore him. I'd just never thought before that... his attentions could be a good thing." His eyes were on the road, but his thoughts were far away.

Youji hummed in contemplation. "You mentioned something, earlier, about the day you arrived here."

Omi nodded. "Yeah. Well, I guess I was in shock. He was here, and I was terrified, and Manx expected me to stay alone with him. I just... I couldn't think, anymore, and I wanted it all to stop..." He breathed out, heavily, trying to put into words what must have been terribly confusing. "Manx didn't realise that I was falling apart, but Schu did. All I remember is him telling her that they were done, and then he cut the connection. Then I broke down crying and fell asleep." He smiled a bit. "Now I know that it was him helping that along, or there would have been no way I'd have fallen asleep."

"Considerate," Youji said, obligingly.

Omi snorted in amusement. "You don't know the half of it. I woke up to him making dinner."

That was a bit too much for Youji not to stare at Omi incredulously.

Omi smiled secretively, parked the car, and then directed his smile at Youji.  
"He's not what you think he is. I mean, he is that, too, but it's not all that is to him."

That on the other hand didn't surprise Youji. None of them were two-dimensional, and he'd known that (in theory) even before their teams joined forces. And in the past weeks, he'd seen for himself what was behind the evil assassins of Schwarz. Still pretty evil assassins, but also people. But the way Omi was saying it...  
"So, on a scale from one to ten of being in love, how far above eight are you?"

Omi burst into giggles. After a moment, he shrugged insouciantly, still grinning. "Yes," was all he said.

Youji sighed, but he couldn't fight the smile. "Let's go shopping then, you little heartbreaker."

Omi rolled his eyes and opened the car door. "Let's."

*

Ken and Ran stood in the living room for maybe half a minute, before Ken took a deep breath and headed upstairs.  
"Right..."

"Where are you going?"

" _'Keeping an eye on his evil ass,'_ wasn't it?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm getting my shorts and heading to the beach."

He got ready quickly, and Ran was still rummaging around in his room when he grabbed a towel. Walking down the hallway, he saw an open door he hadn't paid much attention to before, but now he could see that it was probably occupied by both Omi and Schuldig. Some clothes were clearly Omi's and others were just as clearly not. And the room didn't look like their arrangement was a particularly recent one.

Ken tried not to think about what went on in that room at night and purposefully marched past it, downstairs, outside, and along the path leading to the beach. He tried not to think about much of anything, really. One step at a time was more than enough, right now. Especially, since with every step they took on this island, another surprise reared its head.

He found Schuldig's towel in the sand, quickly, but it took a moment longer to find the man in the water. When he saw the flaming red hair resurface, it became clear why he hadn't seen him right away. Schuldig was wearing diving goggles but no snorkel, and it he apparently could hold his breath for quite a long time.

Ken sat in the sand and just watched the German dive and pop up every now and again, until he was being joined by Ran who flopped down (gracefully) beside him.

"Not joining him?" Ran wanted to know.

Ken huffed. "I don't trust that man in the water."

"You shouldn't trust him out of the water, either."

As on cue, Schuldig slowly made his way towards the unfriendly duo.  
"So, you two are just going to stay out here and pout instead of enjoying a holiday that one could probably argue you might have deserved?"

Ken rolled his eyes, Ran scowled.

"I'm not just going to forgive and forget. I don't trust you, and I hate you for what you've done to my sister," Ran growled with icy calm.

Schuldig looked honestly confused by that. "Your sister? We _saved_ your sister!"

Ran stood within the blink of an eye. "She's all I have, and you kidnapped her for some kind of sacrifice-"

"Okay," Schuldig interrupted. "One: We actively kept her alive because our insane bosses wanted her for that ceremony, which we then sabotaged, _without_ killing her. We didn't have to keep her alive, it would have been much easier to just kill her. And _two_ ", he quickly added when Ran took a breath to indignantly protest, "if you seriously think she's all you have, you're a fucking moron."

Ran vibrated on the spot. "I know Schwarz set the bomb that killed my parents."

Schuldig's expression froze into a cold and calculating mask. "Schwarz was ordered to do so, that is correct. But _I_ set the bomb and detonated it."  
He evaded Ran's punch without much effort, but Ken took a steady hold of Ran from behind, anyway.

"Ran! Calm the fuck down!" Ken then scowled at Schuldig over Ran's shoulder. "Why did you have to say that now, you idiot?"

Schuldig remained unperturbed. "He already knew most of that. The fact that it was me was mere coincidence; it could have been any of us." He took a dangerous step closer and stared Ran directly in his wild, amethyst eyes.  
"Yes, I set the bomb, and your parents died. My condolences. But you lived. Your sister lived. Your team lived. My team lived, and mad lunatics didn't take over the fucking world in that goddamn museum. Blame me all you like, I don't give a shit."

"They didn't have to die," Ran insisted, struggling in Ken's hold. He didn't struggle to actually break free, he just couldn't contain his pain, and this was the only way he could convey that he nonetheless wanted to be held back.

Schuldig's expression, surprisingly, softened (as far as that was possible).  
"They really did. It was the only way we could pull this off without Esszett figuring out we were trying to take them down, while at the same time keeping you alive." He looked into the middle distance for a moment. "Brad always said that you would be important, eventually. Huh." He smirked a bit. "I'd forgotten about that. Smarmy bastard." His changeable eyes returned to Ran's.  
"I admit that I didn't care at the time, but there was no way to avoid your parents' death." He paused. "Omi's... sister, on the other hand, didn't have to die. That was just me being a reckless, sadistic asshole who took out Farfarello to play and then got punished for it." He tilted his head, the smirk back. "Quite deservedly, too."

Ran did break free then, but since he didn't appear to want to attack and merely stalked away a few steps, Ken let him.

"Did you make Omi forget about that?" Ken demanded to know, standing his ground.

"No. He is well aware of it."

Ken, in complete incomprehension, spun around his own axis once. "I don't _get_ this whole thing!"

Schuldig just shrugged. "Neither do I, really."

"Then why do it?" Ken demanded to know. "Why would you even sleep with him?" His voice was very close to either shrieking or breaking.

Ran didn't say anything, but he clearly wanted an answer to that question as well.

Schuldig shook his head, incredulously.  
"You two are real pieces of work." When that didn't get him a response, he continued in a tone one would use on people who are particularly dim: "I just _like_ him. You know, I'm allowed to like people. He's funny and a cheeky little fucker and really good in bed. He wants me, so why the hell _shouldn't_ I sleep with him?"

Ran crossed his arms. "And the fact that he's a paranormal has nothing to do with it?"

"I fail to see how that is in any way relevant to this discussion, but _of course it fucking does_!"  
He walked a few steps, his hands in his hair in frustration, and muttered curses in German, before he came to a standstill in front of the other two again.  
"Teaching him about his gift was like a fucking _revelation_! He wasn't scared of it; he didn't hate it; he doesn't feel like an abomination for having it. No. He _loves_ it! He unwraps layers of it like it's a fucking Christmas present! Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

Ken was taken aback by the hints at Schuldig's own upbringing – not that he showed much of it; he simply disliked the other man too much... But it was difficult to unite the usually cocky German with the image of someone who must have grown up hating what he could do. Ken was also suddenly glad that Omi was spared at least that experience; he'd had enough horrid ones of a different nature.

Ran didn't appear particularly moved on the outside, apart from a brief flicker of his eyes that suggested that he picked up on the same information as Ken.  
"You don't have to tell us how special Omi is. We already know, with or without any paranormal abilities. Do you?"

Schuldig stared at him, slack-jawed. "Have you listened to a single word I've just said?"

"I have. How he deals with his ability isn't what makes him extraordinary."

"No. But it's part of who he is, both his ability and his ability to deal with it."

Ken couldn't help but think that none of this would have happened if Omi didn't have such an ability, in the first place... but he didn't get to ponder it further.

Schuldig narrowed his eyes at him.  
"Oh, yes, it would have happened."

Ken startled.

"His empathy made his depression worse quicker, but he would have ended up where he was, anyway." Then he smirked. "And it might have taken him longer to trust me, but given what I know about him, now, he would have slept with me, eventually."  
His expression turned serious as he studied Ken. "But I'm giving you brownie points for not thinking that you wished he was _normal_."

Ken straightened. "He _is_ normal," he stated firmly.

Schuldig managed something distantly resembling a smile. "And he's luckier than I was."

Which confirmed Ken's earlier thought about Schuldig's past. Schuldig's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond to that out loud (or mentally), so Ken let it rest, never mind that the other man suddenly seemed very, very distracted.  
"What?"

Schuldig headed towards the water again, his eyes focused. "Dolphins."

"What do you mean?" But then Ken saw it, too. "Oh. _Actual_ dolphins." He'd never seen dolphins in the wild before, and from the looks of it, neither had Schuldig. Even Ran was momentarily distracted from directing distain at the German.

Schuldig was already in the water again, while Ken was still standing beside Ran, itching to get closer as well.  
"Is that..." he began to ask, "I mean, is it okay to swim with dolphins?"

"Well, they're not sharks."

Ken rolled his eyes. "You can swim with sharks, too. What I'm asking is if an expert shouldn't be with you when you do it."

Ran crossed his arms. "He seems alright."

Ken had to agree that this indeed was the case. Schuldig was swimming between the pod of animals who excitedly circled and dove with him.  
"Maybe I was worried about the dolphins?"

Ran huffed. "So much for animal instincts."

Ken couldn't decide who looked more joyous, Schuldig or his new friends.  
"I'm going in there," he declared, decisively. He wasn't about to pass up a chance like that.

The dolphins took to him, the moment he was deep enough in the water, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to describe what it felt like to have such animals... play with him. It was... exhilarating.  
Ran should... Ran should be there, too. But when he looked for him, the other man was still standing on the shore, his arms crossed.  
"Ran! Ran, come on! You don't want to miss this!" He waved him closer, encouragingly.

One of the dolphins seemed to agree with Ken, swam away from the group and closer to the shore and squawked at Ran before diving again. Then another followed its lead...  
Ken watched them in bemusement.

"They agree with you," a voice suddenly said next to him.

Ken blinked, startled. "Don't tell me you can actually read the minds of dolphins..." That was both a disturbing and an intriguing thought.

"Sort of," was the vague answer. "They don't really think along the same lines as we do, and their thoughts aren't as structured as humans' – not that this is saying much – but neither really think in language, so I can get a sense of what they want."

"Humans don't think in language?" Why this was the first thought he had, he didn't know. But he _did_ think in language, didn't he? He was thinking a question just now, and that question was definitely made up of words...

"Thoughts are not in language, but the brain translates them so quickly that most people never notice." He smirked. "Some theorists might disagree, but..."

"But you know better."

"I do." He winked, held onto a dolphin and let it pull him through the water.

Ken was about to let himself get caught up in the moment and join him, but then he noticed Ran still just standing there, ignoring the dolphins taking turns in trying to convince him to play with them.  
"Ran! Just get over yourself and get in here!" he yelled, fully aware that he himself hadn't got _'over himself'_ , either, only just enough to no longer resist this rather unique opportunity.  
"You'll never get a chance like this one again!"

Ken knew that there were businesses built around swimming with dolphins (often with questionable domestication and/or keeping of the animals), but these were wild dolphins... and they even had a sort of dolphin interpreter with them...

And, to his utmost surprise, Ran took off his shirt and did join them.

*

Ran brought up the rear of their procession back from the beach. Schuldig was up ahead, apparently energised from their little excursion and what it had entailed. Ken was neither as euphoric as Schuldig nor as lost in thought as Ran and was (symbolically and literally) in the middle of the three.

As despicable a human being Schuldig may be, Ran didn't know anymore how to categorise him. Swimming playfully with dolphins wasn't something that Ran could align with everything Schuldig represented for him. He had tentatively joined the other two in their adventure, earlier, but he hadn't managed to let go as they had.

Schuldig had even picked up on an unasked question at some point (not that Ran should have been surprised by that), asking Ran and Ken if they would like to have a glimpse at what the mind of a dolphin projected (or translated into for a human brain).

It had been indescribable. Schuldig had told them that there weren't many animals with intentions as clearly directed as dolphins', which made it possible for him to even understand some of their thoughts and share them.  
The animals had been rather… single-minded, which was something Ran could relate to. It made life easier if one had a simple purpose to pursue, except that the dolphins' purpose truly hadn't been anything but curiosity and… playfulness. Even Ran had been affected by that, and he could only imagine how much Schuldig would be caught up in such thoughts, being directly connected to them.

It was difficult to process that someone like Schuldig would be capable of experiencing such guileless joy – influenced by other life forms or not – and it made him wonder if this was what Omi saw in him.

He didn't like that possibility; life was much easier when roles were clearly allocated. Weiß was good, Schwarz was evil. Then again, that clear distinction had begun to develop serious cracks before this holiday.  
It would appear that he had to re-evaluate not only his professional view of his new team members but the personal one as well. Humanity of assassins was not something that was easily pondered… It had taken him long enough to make that allowance for Weiß.

And now he was forced to ponder that possibility, once more. _Would_ ponder it for Omi, even if every cell of his being implored him to reject it, outright.

He… very firmly told himself to determine what Schuldig was for Omi before he would pass judgement (again). He had accepted Schwarz into their team for the sake of efficiency; he would just have to do the same for the sake of… happiness.

But if Omi was not happy, there would be hell to pay.

As it happened, Omi looked quite happy, waiting for them back at the house. Giddy, almost.

Ran caught Youji's eyes over Omi's shoulder, and he saw his own resignation mirrored in the green eyes. Youji managed a little smile, though, so Ran hoped that, perhaps, the situation wasn't as abysmal as it appeared at first glance.

Whereas Omi had been quite reserved before, he now enthusiastically greeted Schuldig with his arms wrapped around the other's neck and a slow, intimate kiss.

Ken seemed frozen in mid-step, and Ran modestly averted his eyes until he could hear Schuldig say, "You're in a good mood..."

Ran read surprise in Schuldig's expression, probably due to the man having expected more hesitance or even sudden rejection with the new arrivals. It was gratifying to see that the surprised look was a happy one with none of the arrogance he usually displayed.

And when Ran saw Omi's lips silently form, "I love you," with serious eyes full of his heart, he watched Schuldig like a hawk, looking for even the tiniest hint of disapproval or mockery... only to see the German's changeable eyes widen slightly in shock, his breath hitch, and his hands twitch where they lay on Omi's hips. Then they were kissing again, and Ran thought that Schuldig was _very_ lucky that he hadn't reacted any differently.

He sighed, clapped Ken on the shoulder to wake him out of his stupor and join Youji.

"I suppose you found out what Omi's intentions are," Ran rhetorically asked Youji.

Youji put his hands in his pockets. "About what I expected."

Behind them, Omi suddenly giggled and broke the kiss. "I'm sorry. That was impulsive."

"I don't mind impulsive," was the predictable reply. "Did you have a good shopping trip?" There was still an undertone of hesitance in Schuldig's voice. Ran had to admit that he was intrigued by the uncharacteristic show of insecurity in the cock-sure telepath. Against all odds and expectations, the man might actually be human underneath (far underneath).

Omi nodded, and, like with Schuldig, his expression spoke more than his words. Ran would have to ask Youji what they had been talking about while buying groceries.  
"And how was the beach?" Omi asked.

Schuldig smirked and sent Omi an intense look, making Ran guess that, this time, he was probably actively _thinking_ at him... and he was proven right.

"Dolphins?" Omi gasped, his eyes wide. He framed Schuldig's face with both hands. "Show me!"

Schuldig smiled indulgently and touched their foreheads together (not that there was any physiological or _'psychical'_ reason to do that) and took a hold of Omi's hands, both of them closing their eyes.

Omi's smile widened by the second, and after a long moment, he opened his eyes and beamed at Ran and Ken.  
"That must have been amazing."

Ken nodded. "It was quite something."

"Do you think they might be back tomorrow?" he asked Schuldig.

"They do have some sense of the future, so who knows..."

The moment of the two looking at each other stretched... until Youji huffed.

" _Christ_! Get a room!"

Omi blushed and took a step away from Schuldig, keeping a hold of one wrist that he couldn't quite make himself let go.

"No, no," Youji protested right away, "I mean, actually _do_ get a room, so we can talk about you behind your backs. Go on, shoo."

"Youji!" Ken complained, and Ran decided to just underline Ken's remark with a pointed look.

Youji just grinned. "What? We do want to talk about them, and they'd rather be upstairs, anyway."

Schuldig raised an eyebrow at him. "You realise I can still read your mind from upstairs, right?"

Youji smirked lazily and held the penetrating gaze, unflinchingly. "You'll be distracted."

The two men remained in their staring contest for long enough that Ran suspected mental conversation or at least some mind reading going on.  
Suddenly, Schuldig blinked and shared a quick look with Omi...  
"Fine. I could do with some distraction."

Omi seemed a bit dubious about Schuldig and Youji's motives but clearly didn't think the prospect of disappearing upstairs should meet with resistance.

Once they were out of earshot, Ran crossed his arms and turned to study Youji whose smirk had been replaced by a thoughtful frown.  
"What did he see in your mind that made him let it go, just now?" Ran asked.

"The fact that it's clear to me that Omi's mind is his own and that he's very much in love." He paused after that to ensure that Ran and Ken processed what he had just said. "Also... I've... been encouraging him to pursue it. Schuldig is an awful person, as far as I'm concerned, but... that's not far, is it? It's not my decision, and I don't get a say. So there's no reason for me to voice it."  
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Anyway. You two should probably have a snack or something before you crash. We can throw some dinner together for later and..."

Ken smiles benignly (if a bit pained). "Talk about them behind their backs?"

"I think we probably should," Youji said with a little grin and trotted off to the kitchen. "For our sakes, mind you, not theirs."

Once in the kitchen, Ran realised that he really was ravenously hungry. He hadn't eaten much before arriving at the island, and the swimming was fun but also took a lot of energy. He cut some fruit for himself and Ken while Youji started rummaging around the cupboards for utensils.

"Should we leave you in charge of dinner?" Ken asked, impishly.

Youji flipped him off. "I may not like to cook, but I can do it if the situation warrants it." He grinned over his shoulder. "I've also been instructed at the market how to prepare the food we bought. In detail."

Ken made a general _'carry on'_ gesture with his hand. "Surprise us, then."

Ran was enjoying a particularly tasty piece of mango when the first pitter-patter of rain started outside and turned into a downpour in less than a minute. He supposed it was just as well, as the walls weren't all that thick, and he didn't want to hear telling sounds from upstairs.  
"You wanted to talk about them?" he said, addressing Youji who had found the necessary pots and pans.

"Well, I got an idea of Omi, now, so I guess you guys can update me on your impression of Schu."

Ran pulled a face. "I wish you wouldn't call him that."

"I'm not going to make a fool of myself trying to pronounce it. So Schu it is."

"It's just a name," Ken added placatingly.

Youji smirked at Ran. "And you would know a thing or two about nicknames, wouldn't you, Aya-kun?"

Ran glowered at him, and Youji snickered, returning to his preparations.

"Relax. I'm kidding. It's not even a nickname so much as it's convenience in his case." He poured water into a pot. "So? What's your verdict?"

Ran and Ken shared an awkward look.

"I... really don't know," Ken finally said.

Youji hummed in acknowledgement. "Which means that you hate his guts, and what you've seen goes against that," he translated.

Ran swallowed his current bite of fruit, and his mind went to the beach. He had seen Schuldig admit to killing Ran's parents with pragmatism and no remorse, and he had seen him light up like a child and swim with dolphins. Surely, they couldn't both be real?  
He shared another look with Ken whose thoughts seemed to run in similar circles.

Youji studied them both intently. "I was going to say that our targets would have a hard time seeing the humanity in us, and we know that. We also managed fine with the rest of Schwarz, so I'm guessing, the thing with Schu is about something else."  
He crossed his arms and tapped his biceps with this fingers, lost in thought. "It's just so damn hard to not take the awful things he's doing personally, because he _makes_ them personal. Like, down-to-your-core personal."

"I guess..." Ken mused, "... that with his telepathy, it would be hard for him to not take things personally, either. I mean," he paused, trying to put it into words, "even when you do things for rational reasons, some thoughts you're having are always personal, aren't they?"

Ran had to silently admit that this was probably not wrong.  
"That's no excuse," was his verdict, however.

"No," Youji agreed. "But we have to work with him, and Omi loves him. And when Omi told him so, earlier, he didn't outright reject the notion, so there's at least that."

Ran's mouth twisted painfully. He _had_ been thinking that, too, hadn't he?

"When did Omi say that?" Ken wanted to know.

Youji waved a hand to ease Ken's mind. "He was just mouthing it, so you probably didn't see. Schu definitely did, though."

"He did," Ran admitted, his voice nearly growling. "And his reaction was the _very least_ I would expect of someone who is given Omi's affection!" he stated, firmly.

Youji nodded. "So you saw his reaction, too." He huffed a bit, smiling, as he remembered. "He looked surprised."

Ken frowned. "It couldn't have been a surprise to him of all people."

"No, not that," Youji explained. "I think he may have expected Omi to pull back from him once we got here. And then he didn't."

"Omi would never do that!"

Youji smirked a bit. "We all know that. It says something about him that he wouldn't expect anyone to stand by him..."

"His team would," Ken added with no hesitation.

"But no one else," Ran said, quietly. He could relate to that, at least. It had taken him long enough to even accept that Weiß would remain by his side, no matter the circumstances.  
If he was honest with himself, he could also relate to killing being personal...  
"It's still no excuse."

"No," Youji agreed again. "But I think we can try to put the hatred on hold." He smirked at Ken. "And Ken already defended the rest of Schwarz, just now, so..."

Ken's eyes widened, before he averted them. "They may have many failings, but loyalty isn't one of them." And loyalty ranked very highly with Ken. With all of them.

Ran shrugged, closing the subject for himself. "We have to work with him, whether we hate him or not. Omi's business is his own."

"Agreed," Youji said.

Ken sat, uncomfortably shifting. "I guess."

It wasn't like they had a choice in the matter, so keeping an eye on the situation and an open mind was all they could do. And none of them wanted to fail Omi again.

*

Schuldig woke up early the next morning. Much earlier than he was wont to; it was still mostly dark out, with only a hint of light in the sky.

Dinner the day before had been... interesting. If _'interesting'_ could be used interchangeably with excruciating.  
It hadn't been as bad as it could have been, but the air had been thick due to the determined effort made by Weiß to not voice any of the opinions boiling right under their skin.

Omi had seemed grateful, and he had kept his shields up, serving as some kind of dampener on Schuldig's own perception.

Youji's efforts had seemed genuine enough; Ran had been rigorously blocking anything going either to or from him; and Ken... Ken had been worried that the understanding he had achieved with Nagi was in the balance, because Nagi might get angry with him when he found out about the general suspicion Schuldig was put under.

Schuldig's lips twitched at that in amusement. Nagi probably wouldn't give a shit, but Ken's train of thought was both useful and strangely heartening. Ken was a genuinely good person, and also the most likely to fall prey to their work. He would have to keep an eye on that... In a way, Ken was more innocent than Omi, whose breakdown had been mostly caused by the fact that Omi didn't mind his own darker side (he even liked it at times) and had started hating himself for it. To put it in oversimplified terms.

 

And Omi was definitely the reason he was awake, now. The young man peacefully slept beside him, but Schuldig had to slowly come to the realisation that he... appreciated his new lover's company a lot more than he had been aware of before the arrival of their visitors.

He had to admit that there were at least two reasons for that. The first one being that in the face of rejection, it was quite intoxicating to have someone stand by him in affection. The other one had something to do with his ability, and he wasn't entirely sure what it was. Omi enhanced and dampened his telepathy at the same time, filtering out white noise and clearing up jumbled thoughts.  
He had noticed how Omi's empathy reacted to his telepathy, early on. He hadn't noticed that it apparently went the other way, as well.

Well.

He silently slipped out of bed, grabbed his phone from the bedside table, and headed downstairs.

Time for a call, then.

He sat down in a love seat, checked to make sure everyone in the house was asleep, and then just sat and watched the still dark ocean, toying with the phone in his hand.

Before he could change his mind, he made the connection and held it up to his ear, his gaze still on the horizon.

 _"Nice of you to call in,"_ came the dry voice at the other end.

Schuldig huffed. "Like I'm sure you knew I would."

_"How was your meeting with the parents?"_

"Very funny. Why did you send me here?" He wasn't in the mood for dragging it out, any more. Crawford had been planning behind his back again, and while Schuldig trusted the man to choose the right paths, this was a tad more personal than the usual plans.

_"You already have an idea, or you wouldn't have called."_

"Cut the crap, Crawford!" Nope. Definitely not in the mood... "There are easier ways to enhance an ability and to train an empath than a very elaborate sex escape to a faraway island – and you definitely knew what would happen before we left – and don't even try to tell me you did it to deal with Omi's depression or to finally give in and let me have a holiday."

_"It did work out rather well, this way, don't you agree?"_

"You sent us here, not just for him, but for me, too. And I want to know why."

_"No. You want to know if you should take the risk."_

Schuldig drew in a sharp breath, and the lump in his stomach told him that Crawford was, as usual, spot on.

_"The fact that I sent you, despite knowing what would happen, should give you the answer to that question..."_

"Not enough," Schuldig forced out. He as way beyond reassurance. He needed a guarantee. "Just fucking tell me what you've seen, Brad!"

_"I've seen you happy."_

The floor disappeared from underneath Schuldig, and he was floating. Weightlessly and aimlessly.

_"Allowing the two of you to find a common ground also had the pleasant side effect of you becoming less reckless, because, so I assume, he will be a reason for you to want to return home."_

Schuldig nearly choked on his next breath. "This isn't going to last," he protested firmly, ignoring how his insides instinctively revolted against the thought. "He is going to see me at work and remember why he hated me in the first place."

_"Developing a conscience, are you?"_

"No. That's the point!"

Crawford chuckled. _"You already know he won't have a problem with that. It's just your fear you're battling now."_ Before Schuldig could protest, he continued: _"This liaison is good for the team dynamic, it's beneficial to both your talents, you will behave with a bit more consideration in the future, and my good friend will have a chance at being happy. Now said infuriating but good friend will just have to pull his head out of his ass and accept it."_

Schuldig felt his eyes sting. "This isn't me. I don't know how to do this."

_"You're already doing it."_

 

Schuldig only listened to the parting words half-heartedly, but _"You're already doing it,"_ still rang in his head when he felt Omi stir and wake up and then slowly make his way downstairs.

"Hey..." Omi greeted him, coming to a standstill next to the large seat where he normally would have just joined him. "Alright?"

Schuldig nodded before looking up. "Just called Crawford," he said, dismissively, even though the tone was in stark contrast to his emotions, and Omi must have picked up at least some of it.

Omi tilted his head. "Would you rather be alone?"

One part of Schuldig wanted to leave the island, never to be seen again. But that part was becoming increasingly smaller...  
He shifted to the side and patted the empty spot next to him. No. He didn't want to be alone. Alone kind of sucked, didn't it?

Omi sat, still not moving as close as had become their habit, but his body language and expression (and his thoughts) were completely open.  
"I could venture a few guesses, or I could just drop it," he offered, a mischievous smile playing on his face. It went unsaid that voicing it didn't change the fact that he really did have quite a few very accurate guesses at hand.

Schuldig couldn't help it, he had to laugh at that, though he didn't turn to look at him. "You're a cheeky little shit, you know that?"

Omi studied Schuldig for a long moment. "He wanted you here as much as me, didn't he?"

Schuldig purposefully relaxed his posture and leaned back in his seat, clearing his throat. His eyes remained on the slowly brightening sky.  
"Yeah, apparently, my telepathy profits from your empathy, too. Not just the other way around."  
He knew that Omi would be aware that this was only one part of the truth, but it was about as much truth as he could handle, right now.

Omi hummed in agreement, following Schuldig's gaze into the landscape. "I'd noticed something changing, but I didn't realise it was actually useful." He pondered that a bit more. "Do you think it's because our abilities are attuned to each other, or is it because of, well. The other thing?"

Schuldig finally turned enough to briefly look at Omi. That was a good question, one that should have occurred to him earlier. Omi's empathy had reacted to his telepathy before anything physical (or emotional) happened between them, but Schuldig himself really should have had the training to stop anything tampering with his ability. Unless, of course, he was emotionally compromised and too sloppy to notice.  
To voice it or not to voice it... And did it even make a difference for two paranormals who could sense so much more than words? He averted his eyes again.  
"Physical proximity can be an amplifier for abilities like ours, but it's definitely not enough to sway what I've been training for most of my life." 

Omi hesitated. "Physical proximity?"

Schuldig smirked, ruefully. Of course his little empath would know what was missing.  
"Rub it in, why don't you?"

"I'm not rubbing it in," Omi said, nonchalantly, and shrugged. "I know you like me. It's not like you're shielding the emotion from me, which you totally could, so I'm guessing you don't mind me knowing."

Schuldig huffed, amused. "No, I guess not."

Omi hesitated again, though, this time, it was very nearly tangible. He played with his fingers, licking his lips.  
"What did he say?" he finally asked, barely above a whisper, daring a peek at Schuldig's face from under his bangs.

It made Schuldig smile before he could stop it, and he returned the nervous look.  
"We'll be fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Omi nodded, decisively and bit his lips to stop the giddy grin from taking form. Not that he was very successful.  
He raised one hand to run his fingers through Schuldig's tempting, long hair and pull his head closer.

Schuldig allowed it and returned the gesture by brushing blond strands from Omi's forehead.

They breathed each other's air, their noses bumping teasingly, their lips brushing over cheeks and chins.

"I keep saying that you're dangerous..." Schuldig murmured hoarsely.

Omi just grinned and spoke against Schuldig's lips. "And we both know that's a good thing."

The teasing became a deep, melting kiss.

As their abilities sang and vibrated along the edges of their very essence because of the physical contact – and, alright, the emotional one, as well – Schuldig made a conscious decision. His connection to his lover was enhancing his telepathy, it was (according to Crawford) grounding his sparkplug nature. It was... an asset, really, not a weakness. An indulgence, perhaps, one that he was powerful enough to allow.

And woe betide anyone who would _dare_ to try and take it away from him.

That vow was the last clear thought he had before Omi deftly undid his trousers and then bent over to take his prick in his mouth.

Schuldig still had the mental presence to do a quick sweep of the house to ensure that everyone else was still asleep. Then all bets were off, and his head fell back against the headrest.  
"Oh, Christ, yes..." He closed his eyes, focusing only on the sweet lips and limber tongue pleasuring him. One of his hands was clutching the armrest, while the other tangled in Omi's hair as the head bobbed up and down.  
"You're so good at this."

{I had a good teacher,} came the swift mental reply.

Schuldig's chuckle was quickly replaced by a moan that he did his best to tone down, as not to wake anyone up. Had he had the presence of mind to think about it, his restraint would have surprised him.  
"You're such an excellent little cocksucker..." He could have resorted to mental speech, but those words demanded to be voiced.

{And I'm told I have a deliciously fuckable ass...}

"God, yes, you do."  
Omi's joy for what he was doing hit him like an aphrodisiac. His young lover was hard and leaking just from pleasuring him.  
"You're an incredibly fuckable bundle of hot sex."

Omi redoubled his efforts, making Schuldig look down so he would have the image along with the sensations to send him over the edge. Such a sight to behold, such a passionate and epicurean sensualist...

Omi drank all of the seed he could coax from him and immediately came up to claim a kiss, still breathing heavily.  
"Epicurean sensualist?" he asked, smirking.

Schuldig chuckled. He hadn't been aware that he'd been projecting... or was actually coherent enough to come up with such descriptions.  
"Lean back, Liebling. I think you deserve some retaliation."

Omi was hardly going to complain; he was painfully aroused.

He was also definitely too far along for Schuldig to show the little minx that there were still things to teach him about sucking cock, but he could at the very least hint at them...

Omi came in under a minute, whimpering and nearly sobbing, his thighs trembling. When he opened his eyes again to see the grinning face of Schuldig, he returned the grin.  
"I guess it takes an epicurean sensualist to know one..."

Schuldig laughed, and then they were kissing lazily (and proving their point).

After long minutes, Schuldig broke the kiss to get both their trousers sorted.  
"Ken's about to wake up."

"Considerate," Omi remarked, smirking.

"Don't test my capacity for accommodation."

Omi snickered, then his expression softened. "Thank you."

Schuldig considered him, considered an answer. Eventually, he just nodded.

They remained where they were, sitting close with Omi's head on Schuldig's shoulder, and Schuldig breathed a tiny sigh of relief when Omi didn't move an inch when Ken stepped outside to join them.

"Good morning," he greeted them haltingly.

Omi smiled at him and lifted his head. "Good morning."

Schuldig decided that this probably required some more accommodation. "Morning."

Ken nodded, awkwardly, as if he hadn't been sure if Schuldig would acknowledge his presence at all and he didn't know what to do if he did...  
"You're kind of on the wrong side of the island for a sunrise," he said to bridge the silence.

Omi smiled. "We're on the right side for a sunset, instead. And mornings are always so tranquil." He didn't lay down his head again, but he melted against Schuldig who resumed absently toying with his hair.

"It's odd..." Ken said, studying Schuldig. "I never pegged you as someone who is this affectionate." The tone was not accusatory or insulting. Merely curious.

It was really only the guileless tone that ensured that Schuldig didn't blow up in his face.  
"No. You know what? Screw you! My shields are good, but ever since you got here, all three of you have been projecting, quite loudly, just how worthless a freak I am. Unfortunately for you, I am also only human – extraordinarily attractive and talented, but human – and maybe, occasionally, I'd like some confirmation that I'm worth something to someone."

Omi straightened a bit, looking at Schuldig. "Schu..."

Schuldig could tell that he was both trying to diffuse the situation and shocked at the words.

"No, it's alright," Ken said, latching onto both undertones. He stood very firmly and faced Schuldig head-on. "I apologise if that made it sound like I'm passing judgement. I'm not. I would have said the same thing about Ran." He tilted his head a bit to get this point across. "And I don't think you're a freak or useless." He paused. "I don't think so, _right now_ ," he allowed, knowing perfectly well that this had been more or less his initial reaction. "I do think you're an asshole, but you really only have yourself to blame for that." He ended his little rant with a smirk.

Omi snickered and kissed Schuldig's cheek.

Schuldig huffed, amused. "I can't even argue with that."

Ken examined him a bit more. "I understand that this probably isn't the reaction you're used to," he mused. "We're giving you a chance here, but you're going to have to return the favour."

Schuldig didn't reply to that, but whatever Ken saw in his expression, it seemed to be enough.

Ken nodded, once. "Right then. I'll leave you to your non-sunrise and get breakfast going." He turned to go and called back, "Don't do anything Youji wouldn't do!"

Schuldig snorted, and Omi giggled.

After a long moment of silence, Omi bumped him with his shoulder.  
"Alright?"

"I guess."

Omi made himself comfortable against him, once more.  
"Still in love with you. Even if you're an asshole."

Schuldig shook his head. "You people are so weird."

"Lucky you," came the deadpan answer, before the facade cracked and Omi burst into giggles again.

Schuldig put an arm around Omi and settled in for a slow morning.  
"Yeah. I guess I am."

 

**Epilogue**

Despite Crawford's reassurance, Schuldig and Omi were somewhat apprehensive to return. Not worried, exactly, but...

They would soon discover that their lives had always been weird ones, and they had both learned to roll with the punches.

So when Schuldig _'accidentally'_ overheard a discussion between Omi and Ran, listening to Ran admitting that he would have done worse things than Schwarz to find his sister and Omi agreeing... He had to concede that perhaps things were different now, for both Weiß and Schwarz. Both asked more questions, neither followed as blindly as they used to. Life was... less desperate.

It allowed them to expand themselves. 

Even if Schuldig considered that to be cheesy bullshit, and he still enjoyed killing and being damn good at it.

Omi didn't mind.

And every time Schuldig saw Omi's welcoming smile, he knew that deciding to not give into his sadism _quite_ as often was the right one.

 

**End**

* * *

On a personal note... **If you like my writing, please share my post on my RL[tumblr](http://ursulakats.tumblr.com/post/166323102961/qs-key-is-now-available-for-pre-order-release).** It would mean the world to this author ♥  


(P.S. Don't feel like you're "stalking" me into RL. You're really not. And this is the only way for me to reach readers.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for indulging me ♥ I felt like revisiting my favourite boys, even though the fandom has been assassinated quite a while ago ;)


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